Ouroboros
by Saienai
Summary: When Hiccup's latest design finally succeeds at shooting down a dragon, he believes that all of his problems have finally been solved. Unfortunately between his father, a crippled Nightfury, and his general penchant for trouble; things are not that simple as he finds himself walking the razor edge between humans and dragons in a conflict as old as time – or perhaps even longer.
1. nth-1: Prologue - Journey to Nowhere

**~Ouroboros~**

I will say this only once: Anyone who has watched the original How To Train Your Dragon movie knows which parts of this are officially owned by whoever and which parts are not. The further into the story you read, the more parts begin to come directly from the twisted recesses of my imagination and less from the original movie / book writer(s). Thank you.

Please note,**_ this chapter is only a prologue_** - the actual story starts from the next chapter, so if you are lost / do not quite like this part, do not worry - it will not have an actual impact on the story until quite a bit in. I _promise_ that the next chapter will make much more sense. It will also be in 3rd person, as will most of the story. Finally, the first few chapters may seem a bit dry (as in lacking action), but it picks up from there. I just needed to start off with some background on Stoick and Hiccup so...

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**nth Cycle ~ Somnia Iter - Somniis Iter**

_How long must a dream last for you to consider it as reality? On the flip side, how could we know that everything around us is not just a dream that has not finished yet? For what is reality but a montage of dreams and nightmares where even at the end it is impossible to know if you will wake up or die a final death._

_Then again, for some of us, a final death would be preferable to the nightmares that make up what we consider as our lives._

_._

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**Nth - 1. Prologue ~ Journey to Nowhere**

I can feel the tensed wing muscles underneath me as they hold us together in the gentle glide above the seemingly endless waters of this world. It has been over four hours since we have lost sight of the island from which we took off from this day – just another island on our journey.

Where are we going you ask?

Nowhere really – for any place is as good as another for us; has been that way for countless forgotten _Cycles_ now. Perhaps it is the eternal wandering spirit in Nightwing that pushes us forward – the spirit that I now shared as well. That unmistakable itching between our shoulder blades – the all driving _need_ to just go somewhere…

– Anywhere but where we have already been –

We can both feel its pull on us – that pull to leave behind the explored lands and thrust ourselves into the unknown. Not that there is much left to explore considering the number of _Cycles_ we have spent in this world. Or at least there would not be much left to explore if the world did not change imperceptivity with each one.

Even now the world seems just slightly different than the last time we have flown over these waters – the ocean just a touch of a shade redder than it was before, the now settling sun just a touch brighter. Even the latest island that we have set off from – It was not there when we have last flown over these waters; and might disappear again if we come back several _Cycles_ onwards.

Then again, compared to our first _Cycle_ – one of the few that I can remember with crystal clarity instead of it melting together with all my other memories like the others – the world is almost completely unrecognizable.

I can still remember the time when the water's below me were blue – oceanic blue, as some would say back then – instead of the dull almost blood red colors it was now.

I remember a time when the world only had a single moon to provide guidance through the night skies – instead of the three that will soon start to poke their way out of the horizon.

As I would sometimes say; the world has changed…

And we have changed along with it.

It was only to be expected – we were quite young when we first met. Both of us still innocent to the ways of the world; with neither really believing the harsh truths that we would later take for granted… It is almost funny in a morbid sort of way how fast our views changed after we met each other.

That is not to say that we have lived easy lives until that point – far from it in fact – but even so we simply did not understand how far we still had to fall – the atrocities that we would have to experience.

That all changed soon enough though – for the both of us.

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It's at moments like these that I wonder if even a single speck of the world around me is real or if it is nothing but a shadow cast by the _pattern_.

But then again, it's not like it would make a difference; I have long ago come to terms with the questionable status of our existence.

It has been two days that we have arrived at this island, just as uninhabited as the last. If by the end of this _Cycle_ we do not spot at least traces of soul based life, it would make it an even dozen empty ones.

A dozen _Cycles_ alone – more than enough to make anyone start doubting their sanity.

Thank Odin that I am not alone.

As I sit on the edge of a cliff with the wind blowing through my hair and the sounds of the ocean coming up from below combined with the ruffling of leaves from the forest behind me I can't help but smile. Nightwing has long since fallen asleep curled around me; he never was one for philosophical thoughts this late at night. As for me… Well, I gaze at the blood red sunset dyeing the waters with its colors – not that they need it, for even on a clear day the waters here would be tinted red – just a strange characteristic of this place – I can't help but reminisce about the nigh infinite _Cycles_ we lived.

Memory is such a strange thing…

I can clearly remember how this all began, with one wish made in ignorance; with one hope that betrayed me; with one death that brought about so many more.

And then the redemption when we were united once again, followed by countless _Cycles_ afterwards.

And countless more that have yet to pass…

Everything starts to blur together after a while. I will probably never be able to sort out my memories of the distinct _Cycles_ – how could I when I have lost count of them.

Tens?

Thousands?

Perhaps millions upon millions already…

The only _Cycles_ that are clearly distinct in my mind are the first dozen or so filled with pain and anguish; for no matter how hard I try and forget them they always come back to haunt me. Nightwing is lucky to not remember them, but for me… they represent the consequences of my actions and perhaps for that reason I can never forget them.

On the one hand, my wish gave Nightwing his tail back – on the other hand... On the other hand Nightwing had to pay for it in blood. So did I, but to me my blood's worth is incomparable to his.

Then there is the _Cycle _when we were reunited again. The _Cycles_ before it are nothing more than a blur of pain, as I searched time and time again for the connection that was not there – as I tried to save the life of a being who meant everything to me and to whom I was nothing. But then there was the moment when the connection was re-established and we became one again. It's ironic that this _Cycle_ would have long ago blended in with the rest of my memories if I did not take time to carefully go over it to preserve it in my mind; and yet the _Cycles_ that I wish to forget will never disappear.

Perhaps subconsciously I do not want to forget my sin – no matter what I tell myself.

After that _Cycle_ though… Nothing. Just a chaotic blend of memories mixed together from the countless _Cycles_ passed. Almost like a story that changes slightly every time you read it, a story that you have read so many times that you can no longer remember any specifics.

I have once been asked during an exceptionally long and somewhat recent (I think) _Cycle_ why I distance myself from others, never allowing myself to fall in love. I just smiled and told them (or was it only one person this time? Already the memory is blurred) that they would not understand. Because really – what else could I say? How can I explain to them that I can barely contain my flinches at meeting anyone – for I have seen them all both as my trusted friends and most bitter enemies?

How can I explain that each and every one of them had at one point or another driven a knife into my back?

Well, such is life for me – if you would call it life, for I highly doubt that death would ever find me – and in many ways life without death is not life at all, simply an existence.

I am rambling now, aren't I?

Yes – I do tend to go on and on at times like these, with no one around. I have yet to see any sign of civilization this _Cycle_, and as the third moon becomes visible in the sky with the final light of the sun diminishing into the horizon I have to admit that I would be surprised if we do find any... Not that there is not enough food for us; the forests are teeming with life and there is an abundance of fish to provide variety to any diet, but still our existence tends to be much more interesting with others around – doesn't even matter if they welcome us with open hands or attempt to kill us the moment the see us; for variety is the only thing keeping off our boredom those few moments that we are not together in the sky.

Perhaps the next _Cycle_ would be better…

Turning around I curl up to the belly of the dragon that together with me makes 'us'. We are companions walking, or flying as the case may be, together along this endless road. From the beginning there was something that bound us together – not some god like power or fate – just circumstance that brought us together and made us inseparable. We love each other – not in the way mates do (and we have both had countless of those as well), but more like brothers, although in many ways it is even stronger than that – for we are truly inseparable.

I would give my life for Nightwing without a thought, and he would do the same for me – even though both of us know that the one left would soon follow the other; for neither of us can live alone any more. It felt as if it would have broken either of us if the other died, and that was only days after the first time we met; and our bond just got stronger over time. We know it, for this is the only constant left to us; proven time and time again in the countless _Cycles_ preceding this one, and will likely be proven endless times more in the _Cycles_ following this one.

As I close my eyes I can feel Nightwing's slow and steady heartbeat against my back and without waking up he covers me with one of his wings. We are only a few paces from the cliff's edge, in fact Nightwing's (miraculously complete, and that makes all of this worth it) tail is partially hanging off the edge and slightly swaying in the wind, but even knowing that a strong wind from a wrong direction could send us off it there is no fear. For I have complete confidence in us, in our ability to wake up and turn our fall into a glide before even reaching the half-way point towards the waters below. And if we don't? Well… no matter. I highly doubt that the _pattern_ would let our journey end so anticlimactically in any case.

Drifting off to sleep my heart slows down until its rhythm matches Nightwing's. As always during sleep and during flight, our hearts beat as one, and as they beat together we dream.

When we sleep or fly our minds become one and we think and see together as one being. Overall, it's an indescribable feeling – but as with all things there are downsides. Just as we share exhilaration, happiness, contentment, satisfaction and dreams, we also share our nightmares.

Tonight is one of those; my memories of the first _Cycles_. Of that cursed beginning.

At the very least, Nightwing will forget most of the nightmare before waking – just as he had before. As for me…

Well – I am used to them…

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**A/N**

Just an introduction for the story. Rather obvious when in time it takes place when you read the next chapter. Just to make things clear, this has never been and will never be a simple re-write of the original HTTYD story. While the first few chapters may look like it (besides expanding the world), once the story passes the forbidden friendship the differences will start to pile up cumulating with a complete derailment at the time of the 'final' battle. After that… It's all original.

Hopefully I will be able to finish this story, if not then I do have an outline from start to finish for the plot so if I find myself unable to finish for some reason I will just publish the plotline in bullet form to prevent the readers (if any) from being stuck halfway through the story.

Other than that, I can only hope that you guys like it.

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Saienai Signing off.


	2. 1st-1: Musings Over Fire

**~Ouroboros~**

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**1st Cycle ~ Omne Imperfectum**

_Wounds come in many varieties, from cuts to burns, tears and concussions. They range from barely noticeable tingles to all consuming pain that forces you into unconsciousness. But they are all nothing compared to the wounds of the heart – for unlike wounds of the body they remain with you, gnawing away at you until finally, they swallow you whole._

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**1st - 1. Musings Over Fire**

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Stoick sat in front of the fire pit in his house staring at the neat stack of wood as it slowly burned to ashes. The sun had long since fallen beyond the horizon, and fortunately for him his duties for the day as chief went with it.

The last dragon raid had been beaten off with no casualties for once, and remarkably little damage to the village as compared to what he had long since come to expect. So it was that he could afford a little time to just relax, stroke the fire, and not think about the problems that his village faced from the combined strengths of the dragons and his son Hiccup.

For a moment he reflected on the multiple failings of his son and wondered what the gods were thinking to have given him a son that was...

Was like…

Well, you really could only describe Hiccup as being like Hiccup as there was nothing to compare him to. The elder herself had pronounced on the day of his naming that Hiccup would never become a real Viking…

_In fact…_ Stoick idly thought for a moment. _In fact it was quite astounding the amount of sheer destruction that Hiccup could cause with his weak and uncoordinated body. It was almost as if Loki himself was guiding his actions._

And yet he could not quite bring himself to believe that Loki would ever select someone with a body build as Hiccup to use as his representation on earth. _The other gods would probably laugh him out of court if he ever selected Hiccup and the others found out about it – they would never let him forget that._

"Besides which I asked the village elder about him enough times that she threw me out of her hut the last time. Still don't know where she got the strength for that from" he muttered under his breath, and then chuckled; "In fact if his abilities for accidental destruction were ever turned against the dragons then they would likely take care of the pest problem once and for all."

Still, Hiccup was his and Valhalarama's son and ever since her death at the dragon's claws many winters back, Stoick tried to take care of him as she would have wished. Even from an early age Stoick was considered as the strongest Viking in the village and Val was just as good as him at fighting dragons.

He himself was famous for having ripped a dragon's head clean off its shoulders in his youth – granted the dragon was a terrible terror which never reached more than three feet in length and were more of an annoyance than a real threat _Unless you were stupid enough to stand still and allow a horde of them to swarm over you…_

In any case, that was still quite an accomplishment for a child barely old enough to walk properly. His fame was completely set in stone when he became chief at the young age of sixteen winters and titled 'Stoick the Vast' along with having multiple kills of almost every dragon kind known to exist – except for the Nightfury of course, but killing a Nightfury was impossible since it never landed. Heck, no one had ever even gotten more than a glimpse of it; the only proofs of its existence were its unnervingly accurate blue plasma bolts and the horrible damage it did to the village. The sheer destruction it could cause without once showing itself was the primary reason for it being unanimously voted as the most deadly of the all dragon races and the only dragon listed under the legendary type.

Val on the other hand earned her fame in a true battle – she was in fact known for having survived alone against three monstrous Nightmares in one of the largest dragon raids of their generation while most Vikings were hard pressed to handle just one of those gargantuan beasts without backup. After all, a fully grown monstrous Nightmare could swallow a Viking whole, had enough spikes that it could impale you with any part of its body, and spit liquid fire which was nearly impossible to put out – meaning that if any got on you, amputation or death were likely the only alternatives. _As if that wasn't enough, they also have a nasty habit of setting themselves on fire – if they were not stupid beasts intent on killing us all I would have been mighty impressed with that fiendishly clever way of combining their unique fire with the immunity to said fire that all dragons seem to share…_

Most other Vikings were just not at his and Val's standards and thus had to be satisfied with the dubious honour of having their best kills be either the double headed hideous Zipplebacks or the bumble bee like Gronckles. Few had the chance to fight against anything else, considering that dragons outside the five common types were exceptionally rare – Timberjacks capable of slicing through trees with their razor sharp wings and Thunder Drums that could unleash piercing screeches capable of disorienting any Vikings nearby being just two of the most recent ones, having been spotted two summers ago. Most of the other dragon types recorded in the dragon manual haven't been seen since his father's time.

The aptly named rare species of dragons such as these were never seen in packs and rarely attacked in any case – it was a fortunate Viking indeed that got a chance to slay them. Well, fortunate or unfortunate was easily debatable as these dragons were typically at least as deadly as the most brutal Nightmares, and their appearance during a dragon raid could easily double the Viking casualties accrued during it. As it was, it should not be surprising that it fell onto him or one of the other veteran Vikings to take on these beasts while the younger Vikings were satisfied with Zipplebacks and Gronckles.

Zipplebacks were only slightly less prestigious than the equally sized monstrous Nightmares – though they were missing the sheer strength and danger of the Nightmares, you still had to contend with two heads trying to maul you or at least inject you with the acid their teeth excrete, two tails swiping at your legs, and a rather unique flaming system where one head breathed out flammable gas and the other head set if off with a spark – resulting in a huge explosion capable of turning a house into rubble. Truly a considerable feat – considering the usual sturdiness of Viking construction.

_Even worse, you can't count on getting close to the blasted things to prevent them from blowing you up since they are immune to fire and not too phased by the shockwave, making them fully capable of setting off the gas cloud even if they themselves are within the blast radius! At least they can only produce enough gas for two large explosions before running out._ It was also fortunate that the gas became inert within half a minute – if that wasn't the case then a few Zipplebacks would be able to blockade the Vikings from stopping the other dragons from stealing the sheep by threatening to light the gasses on fire for the unfortunate Vikings bravely trying to pass through. _Not that the dumb beasts could strategize to save their lives._

Gronckles were different once again. At first glance they might have seemed weak for their size – only half that of Nightmares and Zipplebacks; they more than made up with it with their nigh impenetrable hide _which makes the only plausible way of bringing them down being through bashing at them with a hammer until they stopped moving. Heck, I once bent a sword by trying to stab one through its eye – the bastard just closed its eyelids, which are apparently just as armoured as the rest of his body!_

Fortunately the only method of attack for Gronckles was through smashing at their prey with their nigh dozen anvil-weight bodies or shooting one of its six fireballs – _More like molten rocks, with just as much piercing power_. Its lack of spikes, quills, sword-like wings, poison, acid, or a plethora of other dangers meant that the only attack to watch out for was the balls of magma it spit out, although with their weight approaching that of two dozen well-endowed Vikings meant that there was always a possibility of one bludgeoning a Viking to death. Still, their compact size and short bumble-bee like wings made it possible to ensnare them mid-flight with bolas and kill them while they were disoriented from the fall and still tied up with the bola net. _Not that it means that they aren't dangerous – but with all of its weaknesses I can somewhat understand why killing one is only just slightly more prestigious than surviving a horde of terrible terrors._

The terrible terrors, which at full grown size never reached a length greater than two feet, were little more than pests. They lacked all of the attacks which made the other dragons dangerous, were easily distracted, and unlike the other dragons did not even have enough jaw strength (or the required jaw size) to do little more than annoy him and the other Vikings.

Though they were almost as precise with their fireballs as the much feared Nightfury, the most it could do was set something on fire, as even a blast to the face would just result in minor burns and burnt hairs – so much unlike the blue plasma bolts of the Nightfury which were capable of destroying watchtowers or buildings in one shot. _Truly the only reason we even consider them as dragons – besides their looks – is due to them usually attacking in packs, which in sufficient sizes could overpower almost any Viking…_

For him though – the Nightmares, Zipplebacks, Gronckles and Terrors were nothing to be afraid of or to spare too much thought towards. Instead it was the deadly Nadder type of dragons that he reserved his loathing for. Missing the front legs of most dragons, the Nadders looked remarkably similar to birds, or at least would have if birds grew to twenty five feet, were covered in scales instead of feathers, and had four to five dozen rock hard and razor sharp quills in their tails – which besides injecting paralyzing venom upon contact with its target through the tube like canals passing within the center of each quill were also capable of being shot out with enough force to puncture through armour and impale the unfortunate Viking to a tree from over three dozen paces away.

_At the very least in the heat of battle their aim was not that good without them taking the time to pinpoint their target, and if they tried to compensate for their lack of precision by shoot more than a single quill at a time it becomes possible to block them with a good shield… I shudder to think of the losses we would experience if they had perfect accuracy at a moment's notice or could shoot more than one quill while still preserving their power…_

No matter how impressive their abilities were, Stoick's hate for them had nothing to do with their skills, at least not directly – No, his sheer loathing towards them was because it was a Nadder that took away his wife four winters ago.

That god forsaken dragon that killed her must have sniped at her from far with its quills or snuck up behind her – there was simply no way that Val could have fallen in a fair battle. When Stoick found her after that raid her entire back was riddled with quills spilling her precious blood through their venom canals and a long gash rend down her spine. It was small conciliation that she was guaranteed entrance into Valhala – he had found a deadly Nadder with all of its tail quills spent that had likely been the cause of her death lying in front of her where it had fallen after Val had personally put her axe through its skull with the last bit of her strength.

Miraculously she was still alive even with the severity of her wounds, but even as he desperately tried to stem the unceasing flow of blood from her back he knew that she would not last. Even with the quills miraculously missing her heart and lungs, the deep gash through her spine alone was more than enough to seal her face. She likely knew that as well, as with the last of her strength she grabbed him and begged him to keep their son safe. His heart was rent into a thousand pieces as he begged her to hold on and told her that everything would be fine – even as they both knew that it was too late, far too late for her.

He had never quite forgiven himself for that – for not coming sooner.

It was after her death that he started to get a perverse sense of vindication and perhaps a shard of dark happiness whenever he watched life leave the eyes of yet another Nadder.

And yet even as their deaths piled up, his hunger was never sated and pain was never far from his side.

Even now Stoick felt as if someone was slowly inserting a dull knife into his chest whenever he thought of his wife. He had been told time and time again that the pain would dull over time, and in a way, it did – the dagger's razor edge having been weathered down until it was no longer the sharp stab followed by feelings of numbness, disbelief and loss; having been replaced by prolonged pain of certainty that his wife was dead, as the dull blade slowly tore its way into his heart. Never quite reaching it – never enough to just finish its job – but never ceasing its efforts either.

Somehow though, he highly doubted that that was what the others meant when they blabbed out the saying. _But it's not like I am the only one who has lost someone they loved; death is after all an occupational hazard for us Vikings, the dragon raids and everything… the crippled leading the crippled – all of us just deluding each other while hoping that the pain will end if enough chant those same mantas – 'the pain will pass with time…' – 'at least she is in a better place…' – 'you will see her again…' – Damn those bloody dragons! _

He knew that the dragons were not the only ones responsible for their deaths – Vikings lived an exceptionally dangerous life even before the raids started; what with accidents during hunting expeditions, dangerous storms during fishing trips, or illness during the worst days of winter. Heck, there was always the chance of raids from nearby tribes which fortunately stopped with the arrival of the dragons – but still…

It was simply easier to blame them for everything. _When the pain becomes unbearable – it is not possible to rage at the weather that claimed everyone during a fishing trip; to yell at the slippery slope and the cliff that caused the death of your son when he went out hunting…_

The dragons on the other hand were always conveniently nearby. With the dragon raids happening every other month they were perfect for lashing out that pent up hopeless anger. For what was more cathartic than the plunging of an axe deep within the soft underbelly of a hideous Zippleback and hearing its dying breath as warm blood pours down your hands; or hearing the final cracking of a Gronckle's skull after it yields to your persistent hammer strikes; or the exhilaration at standing over the cooling headless corpse of a monstrous Nightmare along with the fellow Vikings that have made the victory possible… _It is really only my duty as chief that prevents me from rushing off towards the nearest Nadder during every dragon raid – almost as if with each of their deaths I come closer to forgiving myself for ultimately failing her. _

Stoick knew somewhere deep in his heart that her death was not his fault and thus there was nothing to forgive – she would have skinned him and thrust him into a barrel of salt if he so much as insinuated that she required his protection. And yet he still blamed himself for her death and attacked dragons with gusto – as if hoping that by linking her death to his foolish allusion to blame and seeking forgiveness by killing dragons would cause the eternal wounds caused by her death to abate even a miniscule amount.

It didn't of course, but that did not stop him from trying.

For many Vikings it became even easier to blame the deaths of their friends and family exclusively on dragons after the winter twelve winters ago when the being born from lightning and death itself, the shade of darkness, the one they called the Nightfury joined the dragon raids. After all, except during the winter season the village was raided every other month – and the addition of the Nightfury more than doubled the amount of repairs needed after each one, and the less was said about the casualty rates, the better. _Even before its arrival it was easy for me to blame the damn beasts – now though? After the village started to gradually decline under the strain? …After they took my wife from me?_

During the few peaceful moments as these he was honestly scared of how simple and 'innate' it was for him to fall into blaming the thrice blasted dragons (there – he did it again…) for every loss and every misfortune that occurred.

Even as the pain became unbearable and Stoick realized that he had spent too much time digging himself deeper into a pit of depression and he tried to focus on the fire in the hopes of quelling or at least subsiding his pained heart; Stoick knew that he would give anything to have her back – she was the love of his life, and the one thing holding this family of his together.

The first few years after her death he had been too out of it to notice the gradually widening chasm between him and his son – the chasm that Val had worked so hard to bridge.

By the time he had finally noticed it, it was too late – they were simply too different. He tried many times to fix things, to reach out to his son, but they were just too different from each other – it seemed that there was simply nothing similar for them to bond over. And so it was that even Val's final wish to keep Hiccup safe was turning out to be impossible.

_In fact some days it seems as if Hiccup is getting hurt on purpose. Why, just the other day he came back with a story of tripping on the way back from the Meade hall and spraining his left leg badly enough that he could hardly move it the next day_. How a Viking could ever become bedridden from a simple sprained leg he would never know. Heck, he could still remember how he had to bodily hold down Gobber from rushing back to the dragon raid with his right leg still bleeding from the stump just below the ankle – the rest having been bitten off mere minutes before.

Fortunately today Hiccup exhibited hardly a limp in his stride as he ran over to that same Gobber – who now worked as a blacksmith after losing his left arm on the very next dragon raid, and to whom Hiccup was apprenticed. After all if anything positive could be said about Hiccup, it was that he healed at a rate that could almost be called abnormal, or perhaps even celestial in nature.

Stoick snorted as he thought about the possibility of Hiccup's faster than average healing being a gift of the gods, and idly wondered if such a gift (if that's what it was) was their way of saying 'sorry for not giving you a proper Viking body!' or a way to make sure that he survived all his mishaps to provide enough amusement for them. _Although I sincerely doubt that Odin would lower himself to laughing at our expense, I wouldn't put it past some of the other gods to have granted Hiccup life for no other reason than for their own comedic desires._

Stoick's demeanor darkened slightly as he remembered that dragons also tended to heal much faster than humans. Fortunately they could not regrow lost body parts, but it was extremely vexing to know that if you did not immediately kill the dragon with the wound you dealt it, it would most likely survive the damage – it was this property more than all the deadly attributes of each dragon type that made battling against them so dangerous, for you never knew when the stunned dragon you smashed your hammer against would be up and fighting.

In fact, during the first generation of dragon attacks a staggering amount of casualties were due to leaving a crippled and stunned dragon behind and turning your attention to more viable threats, only to be stabbed in the back by what you considered as little more than a cooling carcass. This, more than anything else, lead to the timeless proverbs of 'no better kill than overkill' and 'you are only sure that a dragon is down when you cut off its head – and even then be cautious of turning your back to it' along with the standard mode of operation consisting of 'hammer at it until it stops moving – and then give it a few more whacks just to be sure'. _At least that means that we do not have to capture live dragons too often for the younglings' training in the kill ring – what with any damage accrued during the day's training being gone the next…_

A particularly loud crack from the fire brought Stoick out of his thoughts as he looked at the slowly dying fire in front of him. Frowning at the dark thoughts that had consumed his mind, he leaned over and picked up some more firewood from the nearby stack and threw them on the fire as he settled down again. Watching the flames dancing around and licking the newly added pine wood, Stoick inhaled the fresh smell of pine that the fire was beginning to release into the air around it as it attacked the newly added wood with renewed vigour.

As the fire crackled and embers floated up Stoick let his musings cease and lowering the fire poker to the floor allowed himself to be lost to the mesmerizing movements of the flame. _Just a few more minutes, and then I will get back to sleep – it's already quite late and even though there is little to be done now that the village has been repaired, I will still need to check on the food situation – what with the winter just around the corner…_

As time continued to pass unnoticed and unheeded he reflected idly that it is almost as if the world itself stopped existing beyond the whiskers of flames burning in front of him. Gradually, Stoick's shoulders slumped and his breathing deepened. His eyes, having long ago become unfocused, allowed the eyelids to close over themselves without their owner's permission.

Thus Stoick did not even notice it as he slipped into a deep sleep in the same awkward pose he was in when he first sat in front of the fire, with only luck and experience during countless similar situations during hunting expeditions keeping him from falling over face first into the slowly dying flames.

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It was the low pitched howl of the horn that roused Stoick. The fire has long ago burned down until only the lightly glowing embers were left, casting the room around him with a dull red glow. _Damn, guess I fell asleep… And what is making that damn noise!_ For a few seconds he could do nothing but stare with barely open eyes at the burnt up wood while trying to sort through his mind, before his eyes widened as his sluggish brain provided him with the meaning behind the sound of the horn he was hearing. _Shit! It's a dragon raid! But why!? – The last dragon raid was only a month ago and we should have at least another month before another one! This had better not be a false alarm – I swear I will make them shovel sheep dung for weeks if it is!_

Lunging towards the door and his trusty hammer which he always kept within reach he fell face first onto the floor; just barely managing to break his fall with his arms.

_Perhaps it was not such a good idea to try and run anywhere when you cannot feel your legs…_ he thought to himself while trying to massage some blood into them. _Come on, come on! I don't have the time for this! _Thankfully it wasn't even a minute before he could stand up and stumble his way towards the door. He had his hammer, his legs were now mostly responding to him, so all that was left was his son and he could focus on the battle.

"HICCUP! IT'S A DRAGON RAID! GET TO GOBBER AS FAST AS YOU CAN!" he yelled and rushed out the door to meet whatever raiding party the dragons decided to throw at them this time, ignoring his cape that hung in place near Val's on the hooks along the doorway. If the dragons were here, the fighting would keep him warm enough even during the depths of winter, to speak nothing of the only slightly freezing temperatures of a summer's night outside.

He really hoped that it was a false alarm – but somehow, he highly doubted that they were that lucky.

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**A/N**

Well, here is the actual start of the story. It should be relatively obvious that this is the start of the 'nightmare' that was talked about last chapter. Overall I will only add further parts to the story in the prologue in between the story arcs, sort of as interlude chapters.

Just a quick clarification for the POV: the 'human' characters will be written in third person, while the 'dragon' characters will be written in first person. Its not exactly humans / dragons, but that will hopefully be clarified as you read the story (I don't want to tell too much about how the story progresses, suffice it to say that the POV of each section says a lot about the character who it talks about).

I know that the stats about the dragons are not exactly canon – I tried to stick to official facts while at the same time writing the way I personally see the dragons shown in the movie. Case to point – I see Gronckles as smaller than the other dragons but heavier due to their thick armour-like plating. Just stick to the 'abilities and sizes' I provided, visually there is no difference (and unless you know all canonical dragon trivia by heart you shouldn't spot any discrepancies)

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Saienai Signing off.


	3. 1st-2: Search for Acknowledgement

**~Ouroboros~**

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**1st - 2. Search for Acknowledgement**

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It was an unfortunate side effect of having to defend their village from constant dragon attacks for three of the seven generations of Vikings on Berk that the worth of any Viking living there was seen primarily based on their skills at fighting dragons, with other skills such as hunting and fishing coming in a distant second – if only because the dragon raids were the most visible part of their lives and had over time decreased warring between the different Viking tribes to a point that honour and glory along with entrance to Valhala could only be gained through fighting – and dying – bravely during these attacks. The few exceptions to this general rule included the village elder who although not having any abilities in those two areas was valued due to her wisdom, ability to talk with the gods, and healing skills; the younglings who were still too young to engage in the horrifyingly difficult process of not only staying alive when face to face with a dragon but also attempting to be the only one who walk away from the confrontation; and the older Vikings that took up other professions such as blacksmithing, wood crafting or ale brewing after their skills declined due to either age or more often loss of limbs – after all only the strongest Vikings who have survived countless dragon raids lived to old age.

Unfortunately for Hiccup, he was not the village elder – his age and gender prevented that – nor at the measly age of twelve with no dragon kills under his belt could he be considered a retired veteran no matter how one stretched his imagination. On the other hand he would have fit snugly into the youngling category, if it weren't for the combined weight of the village elder, his status as son to the two greatest warriors Berk has ever seen, and the expectation of becoming a village chief in the future upon him by his father.

As per tradition the birth of Stoick's son was witnessed by the elder who informed them that his name and destiny would be revealed in a year's time based upon his survival of the first winter, for it was not uncommon for newborns to be unable to handle the extreme weather conditions experienced at Berk during their winter – which lasted for over half the year with summer being defined as the three months when it does not snow. The winters were so harsh that Vikings have started to use them to measure their age, with their lives measured not in years since their birth, but in the number of winters they survived. Although Hiccup weighed much less at birth than any Viking in recent memory, he still managed to miraculously survive along with eight of the ten nameless newborns that year throughout the harsh winter and was graced by the presence of the village elder once more.

The importance placed on the naming ceremony was even higher than that of the actual birth – as that was the moment when the recently born Viking not only gained the name they would use for the rest of their lives, but also the time when the village elder would impart them with a few words about their future. During Stoick's naming ceremony the elder proclaimed that he would become the youngest chief of the tribe and lead them for many winters. This came true seventeen summers ago when Stoick lost his father who was chief before him, and was thus chosen by the gods to lead the tribe at a tender age of sixteen winters. Naturally those gathered for the ceremony expected Hiccup to receive similar words as his father – for any son born to Stoick and Valhalarama was expected to be a Viking of legendary proportions – both in skill and in bulk. Unfortunately the fates had a different plan and it was with a heavy heart that the elder proclaimed that Stoick's son would never become a true Viking.

In many societies south of Berk a proclamation such as that would result in an instant death for the child, but the harsh winters of Berk had long ago changed the tradition to one where the survival of the child through their first winter meant that the gods have accepted them as worthy of living – and of having a name. Thus not a single Viking entertained the idea of 'trying again', for Hiccup had survived until his naming ceremony and thus would live on until illness, accident, weather, or dragons caused his death.

Perhaps it was the arrival of the demonic Nightfury over the course of that past summer which caused Stoick to take the news so hard – after all with its arrival the damage done to the village during the raids more than doubled and the village needed all the able bodies it could find; or perhaps it was because if what the elder said was true then for the first time since Berk had first been settled the mantle of chief would not be passed from father to son; or perhaps it was that he, just as everyone else, had expected his son to become great – and it was inconceivable for the greatest love of his life, for his wife, to give birth to a… defect.

Thus it came to be that for the first time in his life Stoick denied the elder's words. Even though he knew that the proclamations of the elder during a naming ceremony came directly from the fates dictated by the gods, he was willing to go against it – nothing would not prevent him from making a proper Viking out of his son; even the gods themselves would not bar his son from becoming a Viking he could be proud of.

And just like that the first cracks appeared between Stoick and his son – cracks that would slowly widen into an impassable chasm bridged only by his wife Val.

Since the moment his son could walk he tried everything to train and force Hiccup to be more Viking like. While the childhood of the other younglings was filled with fun, games, and a sense of belonging both within their families and with the other children, Hiccup's early years were marred with Stoick's attempts at making him faster, stronger and more aware of his surroundings. Hardly a day passed by that Hiccup was not expected by Stoick to lift weights too heavy for him to budge or run laps around the village that he simply did not have the stamina to complete. After all, Stoick was particularly blessed with a strong body and capable of doing those gruelling exercises when he was Hiccup's age – so why shouldn't his son be the same?

Hiccup tried – of course he did – but still, his body was not his fathers – and with his every failing his father's disposition became worse and worse. He wanted his father to be proud of him. He needed his father to be satisfied with him! And yet every time his father looked at him, it was with a perpetual scowl on his face, with his eyes radiating disappointment, and a barely held back (most of the time) sigh in his throat. What made it even worse was that whenever he saw other younglings outside or in the Meade hall with their fathers, Hiccup could not help but notice how the other fathers would glance at their kids with pride, or when asked would make claims of how lucky they were to be blessed with such a kid. There was always a pang in his chest when he compared their actions to those of his own father – and the feeling would sometimes become downright unbearable causing his eyes to moisten with unshed tears when he heard his father reply to that same question with an 'oh, my son? _Sigh…_ Same as always…'

Valhalarama on the other hand seemed to care nothing for the elder's words and could become downright scary if she saw any of the other Vikings giving her condescending looks (or even worse, put them into words). Still, she had expected Stoick to act much better towards his son and was quite shocked to come in a few days after Hiccup first walked around unaided to see him attempting to get Hiccup to lift rocks the size of his head; the argument that followed could be heard throughout the entire village even thorough the gale like winds and pouring rain which made it difficult for even thunder to be noticed unless one tried to listen specifically for it.

From that day Val had done everything to stop her husband's misguided attempts at moulding their son into a carbon copy of himself, but when his bullheaded attitude made that a fool's errand she turned instead to shielding her son from his father's excessive actions. At the same time she was also trying to show her son enough affection to at least offset the perpetual feeling of inadequacy that he had developed and which had spurned him onwards to tackle the increasingly impossible tasks his father set in growing desperation. Really, Val could not decide whether she should feel proud for Hiccup for his nigh indomitable spirit which converted each of his failings into a passion to succeed (and really, a yearning to show his father that he was someone to be proud of, she supposed); or exasperated due to her son's willingness to do anything her husband asked of him – even when she specifically told him not to!

So it came that sometime after Hiccup's sixth winter passed and his mother was away on a hunting trip Stoick took him out to a boulder outside their house and told him to smash it with his head. When Stoick was Hiccup's age his father had done the exact same thing and his attempts resulted in the boulder splitting in half – so obviously, Hiccup being his son should be able to replicate the feat.

Stoick did not spare a single thought to the fact that other younglings, or even most Vikings for that matter, were incapable of such shows of durability – he never knew that even his own father did this to him only after Stoick ripped off a terrible terror's head off when one accidentally climbed into the house. While the attempt was a success for Stoick – to whose juvenile mind the broken rock under him represented the sheer untapped strength of a Viking – his father considered the attempt a failure as he was forced to swallow his lecture about some things (such as dragon killing) being still out of reach until Stoick grew up. After that stint, nothing anyone said or did prevented Stoick from training his remarkably gifted body into the peak of its abilities – so much so that he was already participating in dragon raids at a staggering age of nine when the others of his generation were still a few years off from even getting into dragon training.

It was a firm belief of Stoick's that if his son followed the same training steps that he himself did when he was young then no matter the will of the gods his son could only grow up to be the same as him – a true Viking. This was one of many such attempts, but as with the others Stoick could feel apprehension dawning on him as he saw Hiccup just stand in front of the boulder staring at it with incomprehension. This was one of the simplest things for him – just smash your head against the rock and look at the results! Heck, he didn't even consider this as training, more of a show of what Vikings could do if they set their mind (or more often than not, body) to it! Why couldn't his son just do the same?

Stoick was about to yell the instructions at him again when he saw Hiccup move his head back and smash his forehead solidly against the rock. All the apprehension evaporated from him as pride for his son welled up. Finally one of his attempts has borne fruit! – His son was taking his first steps to becoming a real Viking!

Sure, when Stoick himself did this for his own father the rock split in two under his head, but then again he understood that Hiccup was not quite that good. Looking critically at his son he could not help but notice a distinct lack of muscles on the almost skin-and-bones body. Still, he was sure that just a few more training exercises and everything would be right again!

Then Hiccup turned around and looked at him.

For Stoick it was as if all the pride he felt inside him turned to lead and hooking his heart, stomach and voice sunk down to leave behind an emptiness that nothing could fill as he saw with dawning horror the unfocused look in his son's eyes which stared off blankly into the distance, and the blood running down his face to steadily drip down his nose and chin to stain his son's vest and the ground below.

With his mouth grinning in a strangely lopsided manner Hiccup managed to lisp off "I did good – right dad?" before his knees buckled and he fell to the ground with a thump.

Stoick could do nothing but stare uncomprehendingly at his son's still body. After a few seconds the adrenaline in his body got to a level capable of offsetting the lead based concoction in his chest enough to enable him to regain basic motor functions. Scooping up his son and hurrying to the village elder for her to take a look at his son's injuries, Stoick's mind was working overtime – for the entire sprint he could not help but wonder why things have gone so wrong – he knew that just like him Hiccup smashed his head against that rock for no other reason than to feel his father's approval. Why was it that the end results were so drastically different? And though he wished to be proud of his son – after all that was the entire reason he tried so many times to train him – how could he with his son like this?

How could he possibly be proud of having a son like Hiccup?

In the end the elder bandaged up Hiccup and berated Stoick for such actions exclaiming that his son would never be the same as him. Perhaps she was trying to get him to understand that the same training that he did would not work for his son, but to Stoick it felt like her every word was a long and rusty spike that pierced deeply through his heart and stuck there, slowly shattering his hopes for his son and further hammering in that his son was fated to never be a true part of the village, fated to never become a Viking. Such was the shock of the day's events that Stoick did not even take in any of the words Valhalarama yelled at him when she came back the next day from the hunting expedition to find her son still unconscious with a bandaged up head.

How could he when his heart was alive only in the physical sense of the word?

Contrary to Stoick's immovable belief that the other Vikings could not help but look down upon his family for the failure he perceived Hiccup to be, the others simply continued their wait-and-see approach to Hiccup – after all the other Viking children were still comparatively the same at that age as training did not usually begin until they were through their ninth winter (and usually begging for training to become like the other Vikings). In fact Hiccup and his 'fate' were only brought up when all other gossip grew stale – and what with the nearly weekly arguments between Stoick and Val that shook up the village like a minor earthquake, fresh gossip was not too hard to find.

Although Stoick never repeated the incident with the boulder and had in fact stopped his misguided attempts at training his son altogether, Hiccup had never received acknowledgement that he thirsted for from his father and slowly gravitated towards his mother from whom he could always expect kind words and love. It was Valhallarama that got Stoick to recommend Hiccup to Gobber as his apprentice a year after Gobber's son (and previous apprentice) Eagleeye died during a hunting expedition, and it was primarily under her encouragement that within a single year Hiccup breezed through his first steps to mastering the blacksmithing trade until he was downright good at it with his greatest weakness being his lack of strength – which for a youngling just barely entering his ninth winter was extraordinary!

Unfortunately even this did not gain him his father's appreciation and pride that he so desperately wanted…

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Everything changed during that same winter – for while it was during this winter that Hiccup became proficient at smithing enough to complete most jobs unaided as long as they did not require heavy hammer-work; that high point of his life was tarnished by the loss of his mother.

It was widely accepted that dragons do not attack during winters, although no one knew why. The dragons that were kept in the kill ring for training up younglings did not show any signs of hibernation and in fact looked unfazed by the extremely cold temperatures that Berk experienced during the coldest winter months. Still, being Vikings they never cared for the reasons behind such behavior and simply accepted the blessings of not having to defend their homes during the winters – which were difficult enough to survive even without any attacks. Thus it was quite a shock when a horde of deadly Nadders and monstrous Nightmares descended upon the village during the night after a particularly bad snowstorm.

It is fortunate for Vikings that it was inconceivable for the village to not have at least some look outs defending it; even during the widest storms or winter months when it is taken for granted that no attacks will occur there are always at least two Vikings in one of the guard towers overlooking the docks – after all as the beginning of dragon raids three generations ago and the arrival of the Nightfury eight summers ago had proven, it was better to not get too complacent. It was not a glorious job to sit outside with temperatures cold enough to freeze your spit before it reached the ground – but it needed to be done, so they did it. Unfortunately not expecting any attacks during the winter they were only able to warn the village seconds before the dragons descended upon them – and yet it was still better than the alternative.

While Stoick and Valhalarama were surprised to hear the warning sound of the horn signaling an incoming dragon attack during the heart of winter, this did not prevent them from donning their winter jackets, grabbing weapons and running out the door within half a minute of hearing the warning. By this time the dragons have already landed among the village houses and were proceeding to grab whatever food they could find. Quickly deciding on a course of action Stoick ran off towards the sheep pens where they were kept during the winter as the sheep where what dragons usually targeted during their raids; while Valhalarama kept back to protect their house along with Hiccup inside and the frozen fish hanging outside.

It was a true testament to Viking strength and tenacity that even wading through waist high snow banks to fight off the only winter dragon raid in their history they still managed to do well enough that more oft than not it was dragon blood that stained the pristine whiteness of the snow.

The actual attack was rather small as it did not include any Gronckles or hideous Zipplebacks, but unfortunately for Stoick a group of them that were raiding the village instead of heading towards the sheep had stumbled across Valhalarama. When Stoick arrived back he was greeted with the dead bodies of three Nadders and one monstrous Nightmare lying haphazardly around his house, the snow so stained with blood that the few white patches looked out of place. However it wasn't any of that that caught his attention; no – it was the human body in front of one of the Nadders that held his gaze and hitched his breath.

His dear Val, lying on the ground with the furs along her back ripped off exposing the mangled flesh beneath and the quills sticking out like arrows in an overused target; her blood dripping off the tips of the quills and mixing with the red snow.

Stoick did not even notice the small form of his son shaking with disbelief in the doorway, and by the time he was capable of looking at anything but his wife's body, his son had already disappeared in the house.

In the years following her unfortunate death it became apparent to anyone who bothered to look (and unfortunately no one did) that Valhalarama was the only thing keeping their dysfunctional family from tearing apart at the seams. Without someone to act as an intermediary between Hiccup and his father, Stoick found nothing in common for them to talk about. Hiccup on the other hand saw that his father was gradually distancing himself from him and tried with increasing desperation to receive acknowledgement from his father. It was this and the familiarity between his father and the other dragon killing Vikings that caused Hiccup to believe that the only way for his father to be proud of him was to do what the other Vikings did: kill dragons. Now Hiccup was not stupid, he realized that he could not kill a dragon the same way the Vikings did, after all as Gobber would ceaselessly remind him later on in his life – he could not lift a battle hammer, swing an axe or even throw a bola – thus he needed some help.

From there Hiccups split off from the others of his generation was complete. While the others gradually trained up their bodies knowing that once they reached the proper age they would be put into dragon training and someday be allowed to fight dragons; Hiccup could not wait for that long and instead tried to compensate for what he felt (with apparently his father's agreement) as his failings by coming up with a weapon that his body could use so as to be able to kill dragons NOW, not some time in the distant future.

It was that decision that cemented Hiccup's position in the village and caused the other Vikings to look at him with distaste while also ostracizing him from others of his age group. After all, no one else had any need for methods to kill dragons that children could use – so Hiccup had to create his own. Naturally expecting a child barely past his ninth winter, even with Hiccup's imagination and impressive smithing skills, to come up with never-before-made working weapons against dragons would be foolish; the fact that his attempts did not outright kill him when he was building, testing, or trying them out (both in the 'safe' confines of the forge and against dragons during actual raids) was a miracle in and of itself.

The villagers however did not see Hiccup's continuing attempts at killing dragons and successes at defying death in the same light. Due to his contraptions causing more collateral damage during the dragon raids than a pack of monstrous Nightmares; it was understandable that the Vikings instead began to consider him as an active negative. Furthermore, seeing the dismissive actions and hearing the snappy comments of the other Vikings towards Hiccup caused the other children to see him in the same light – especially seeing that Stoick did nothing to help out his son and was several times heard (quite loudly) berating him in front of all the villagers after yet another spectacular failure. This unfortunately made the others believe that Stoick disapproved of his own son and would turn a blind eye on the children's attempts at making Hiccup's life worse.

Overall life fell into a set pattern after Hiccup's first few attempts at killing a dragon – with the adults silently disapproving of him, the other younglings considering him as a laughing stock of the village that they could use to take any frustrations out on, Stoick continuing his life having sadly accepted that his son would never become a Viking, and Hiccup attempting to earn his way into everyone's graces and his father's love through increasingly deadly and more elaborate contraptions, naively unaware that even if he somehow managed to kill a dragon with his contraption it would do little to remove the stigma others have placed upon him. _After all, considering the staggering amount of destruction caused by his previous attempts it was simply a matter of time that a dragon got killed as collateral damage_ – they would think.

The only person in the village that ever looked at Hiccup with approval was Gobber. Hiccup reminded him of his own son Eagleeye and what with the way the others were acting towards Hiccup, Gobber considered it his duty to try and be a friend and someone who would listen to all the frustrations that Hiccup felt in his life.

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Thus when Hiccup woke up into the darkness of his room to his father's voice yelling out below him about the incoming dragon raid, he did not feel fear. After all, what is there to fear in a life like his, other than the continuation of his existence in the same manner as before? For he couldn't say that he was alive – after his mother's death everything that made his life worth living disappeared and he just continued to exist, hoping that someday he would be able to do something that would make others look at him in a positive light and allow him to truly start living his life.

What he felt instead was a sense of hope which boosted his determination. _This time… This time for sure. The last attempts were failures, but this one WILL work. I WILL shoot down a dragon, and not just any dragon – NO! – I will bring down the one dragon that no one has ever seen; the one dragon whose name alone forces half of all Vikings to fall down on the floor in fright – The Nightfury! And then… And then perhaps for once my dad will be proud of me… for once in his life, actually proud of me… I may have been dead up until now, but if all goes right, after today – I will be able to live once more…_

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**A/N**

Just a little backstory (most of it invented by me to provide some depth for the characters and show how Hiccup's live was until the official start of the story.)

Anything that detracts from 'cannon' facts… Just go along with it, please. Although if you do review, I don't mind knowing which parts differ from the original, and if they are not important for the story I do not mind changing them (Valhalarama's name is canonically Vahalrama I think. For me Valhalarama just sounds better, besides Val is such a good nickname that even though I found out the correct spelling for her name I decided to leave it as Valhalarama for this reason.)


	4. 1st-3: Dragon Raid

**~Ouroboros~**

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**1st - 3. Dragon Raid**

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The island of Berk was not the most habitable of places. For an island large enough to require several weeks to transverse across its shores until you arrived at your starting point, Berk had surprisingly little places where a village could be built – most of the island was densely packed with thousand year old trees and the ground riddled with chasms, cliffs, ridges, and other foreboding features that made hunting on the island an extremely dangerous and daunting task even without the nearly constant fog flowing across the landscape. With the fog though – it was really no small wonder that the Vikings that settled the island had found fishing (even with the unpredictably wild seas around them) to be a much more viable method for procuring food.

It speaks wonders about the hospitality of the island towards Viking settlers that the place they selected to build their village on was the nearby rocky islet outcropping bordering the main island – the cliffs of which were close enough to allow several trees to be dropped across and tied up to provide passage. Or it could have simply been that the first Vikings decided that a village built on such a location would be easier to defend against warring tribes – what with the ocean all around, no trees to provide cover or to set up ambushes, and the only method of getting from there to the main island being across a chasm several hundred feet deep ending in razor sharp rocks and the deadly tide of the sea that was narrow enough to easily build a crossing over while still being wide enough to prevent crossing without a bridge.

For four generations the village of Berk thrived and successfully defended against other tribes, thus proving in a trial-by-fire that the original settlers made a wise decision when they chose that islet to build the village upon. When in their fifth generation the dragon attacks started, the village was uniquely situated to defend against them – with the dragons always attacking from the seaward side instead of flying over the island it was possible to spot a raid and provide at least half a minutes warning before the dragons arrived – even with the raids always occurring in the late hours of the night.

Still, half a minute of warning before the dragons swarm over you is not quite that much time – especially at night – thus every Viking had long since learned to sleep with one eye open, an axe under the pillow, and dressed in nightclothes that would not look out of place on a battlefield.

Unfortunately for Stoick, the half a minute interval did not offer any leeway for regaining feeling in your legs after falling asleep in front of a fire in an awkward pose. So by the time he managed to stumble outside the air was full of Viking war cries and screeching dragons – the raid being already well underway.

Glancing over the battle from the high ground where his house was situated Stoick allowed his subconscious mind to expertly gauge the dragon raid and placed it firmly into the 'large and quite dangerous' category – the skies above him were choke full of Nadders and Zipplebacks while groups of Gronckles were flying close to the ground and stealing the meat that was left out to dry. In the distance he could hear the tell-tale vicious snarl followed by synchronized screams meaning that several Vikings have stumbled across a particularly vicious monstrous Nightmare.

Tearing his hungry and half-crazed glare from the Nadders above him, he sprinted in the direction of the screams. _Don't lose focus – you are the chief of the tribe and have to shoulder the responsibility for its wellbeing – DO NOT run off like a grief stricken youngling… You will get your change at those Nadders…_

Absentmindedly hammering at a passing Gronckle that was unfortunate enough to cross his path Stoick leaned down to grab a shield that lay forgotten on the floor and neared the yells and frantic scrambling. Judging by the flames licking at the houses and sticking to the rocky path to his sides, he knew that his guess at the breed of dragon was correct. Fortunately for him the amount of fire all around meant that the Nightmare was likely running out of flames – leaving him to have to watch out for only the spikes along its body, razor sharp teeth, feet long claws at the ends of its wings… _and let's not forget the insanely quick reflexes or its capacity to withstand damage. Let's just hope that there is only one or at most two – they usually don't hunt in packs, but there seems to be too much damage and flames around here for it to have been caused by a single Nightmare, no matter how exceptionally determined it was._

A sliver of fear crawled into his chest and spread its roots – the air around him was a cacophony of screams and roars, but it's been several seconds since he last heard anything from the struggle he was rushing towards. _If they can just survive long enough for me to get there…_

There was a prickling in his neck when he turned the corner and Stoick immediately lunged into a roll to the side – and not a moment too soon as a cone of liquid flame sprayed at the spot he stood in just a moment ago. Thanking the sixth sense that all veteran Vikings had (for those that didn't did not survive to become such) and muttering a quick prayer to Odin, he rushed towards the Nightmare that shot at him while his mind was still in the midst of processing the carnage of the scene he stepped into.

In front of him were three dragons – the Nightmare that just tried to roast him and two Nadders who were fortunately still focused on the three Vikings at the side. Stoick did not even spare a wince at spotting the three corpses – two Vikings nailed to the wall with Nadder quills, one at ground level and the other one almost ten feet in the air, while the last one was little more than a still burning lump on the floor. Only veteran Vikings would understand the relief he felt along with the expected pang of sadness at not hearing the screams from the burning corpse and knowing that whoever it had been was mercifully dead.

_That's three lost already, and the raid had only just begun… No time for that now though. _He knew he was being callous, but against two Nadders and a Nightmare without any backup even he would need to focus completely on the battle. _My body is a finely honed axe that my mind swings – there is no time for fear and hesitation that would blunt my strikes and dull my edge. There is no grief, there is no uncertainty – there is only my determination…_

Pain, sadness, grief… There would be time after the raid for those.

Fifteen paces brought him almost half way to the Nightmare when it swung its head toward him and opened its jaw – he could see the glow emanating from deep within its throat signaling that it was just moments from incinerating him. His body was telling him to duck, to get away from it – and yet he forced it to remain on course, straight towards the open maw. _From the amount of fire all around and the quantity it sprayed the last time it should be just about out._

Swinging his shield in front of him and angling it off to the side Stoick took the blunt of the liquid flames coming in towards him with his shield which splashed off it to fall harmlessly along the side of the road. The pressure of the stream was much weaker and he felt a tinge of satisfaction when it sputtered and died an instant later – he was right to bet on the Nightmare's flames running out; now all he had to do was reap the rewards.

Throwing the burning shield to the side – _Useless now, and more of a hazard to me than a danger to the dragons_ – Stoick did a full rotation to build up momentum and backhanded the dragon with a downwards strike of his hammer. Such was the force of the blow that even a Gronckle's naturally armoured skull would have shattered – the relatively light armour of the Nightmare did not stand a chance as it's caved in head smashed against the cobblestones. Even though standard protocol would dictate smashing it again to guarantee its death, Stoick knew from the feel of his strike that it was not getting up.

He allowed himself a moment of satisfaction at the broken body before him and cursed as he heard the piercing whoosh of displaced air quickly followed by five quills. Apparently the Nadders have gotten though their surprise and were now focused on him rather than the rapidly cooling corpses decorating the wall.

Refocusing himself on the two dragons in front of him Stoick silently thanked Gobber for the stellar job he did on his armour – while four of the quills missed him and were now stuck a few inches into the solid wooden wall behind him, the last one glanced off his left shoulder pad and careened off into the darkness. If the metal disk was of lower quality he could have been sporting a not so fashionable piercing through his shoulder which would have done horrible things to his chances for survival.

As with all dragons, the general plan for fighting off several Nadders by yourself at the same time was 'don't.' In their case this was because you needed to keep your attention on both of them as they were both equally likely to shoot at you with either their quills or their flames. Even worse for Stoick, the shield he picked up on the way here was going through its final stages of turning into ash somewhere behind him. _Well, no one ever said that survival was easy._ Besides which, he had been in worse situations before. _All I need is a good distraction for one of them while I take care of the other…_ Glancing at his hammer he smiled into his beard. _That would work._

With all his strength he hurled his hammer towards one of the Nadders as he jumped towards the other one. Without him on the other end to provide the necessary force behind it the hammer would do little else than disorient it, but that was all he needed. Halfway through is sprint Stoick heard the pained cries of a Nadder but resisted the urge to glance at it to evaluate the damage he had caused – which was fortunate as the Nadder he was focusing on prepared to release a spread cone of fire towards him. Listening to the frenzied cries of his body to get out of the way he curved off to strafe the Nadder instead of rushing head on and avoided the imminent flame that came a moment later.

This maneuver put him within range of the Nadder's deadly quills along its tail which it immediately tried to capitalize upon by swiping at him with its tail, but he was ready for that – without breaking stride he jumped over the tail and rushed towards its now exposed belly – it would take a few seconds for it to reverse the tail's direction and without being able to breathe fire too soon after the last time, there was a clear opening that Stoick could take.

The Nadder must have realized his intentions and attempted to block his path with its wings – a last ditch maneuver considering that their wings were the most fragile parts of their body – but he was already too close. With a practiced hand he unsheathed the dagger at his belt, twisted it into a reverse grip and thrust it deeply at the dragon's chest, before viciously ripping it upwards to open up the wound even further. The dragon stumbled and fell as one of its legs bucked under it from shock and severed tendons – he knew that it was not a mortal wound as the beast's heart was on the other side, but he also knew that the shock of the wound would enable him to finish it off.

Grabbing at the base of the wing he pulled himself forwards and thrust like a viper at the neck, smiling grimly as his dagger tasted flesh once more and blood poured down the blade and along his arm – he knew that even dragons could not heal a slit throat, at least not fast enough for it to matter. Still, he was cautious, for even a dying dragon could kill you – and unlike the Nightmare this one could still strike back. He felt more than saw the neck muscles tense as the Nadder attempted to turn its head around towards him and prepared to defend himself _Its neck is cut so it likely cannot breathe fire, but until its final breath it is still capable of mauling me with that jaw or nose-horn. _Fortunately for him though, his thrust must have damaged some of the muscles which prevented it from moving its head all the way and only managed to rip open the wound even further.

Grinning savagely Stoick slashed the dagger out of the dragon's neck, further rending it apart. With a last gurgle the Nadder's head fell limply to the floor and the spasms of its leg that was attempting to push it away from the Viking attacking it ceased. Confirming that it was dead as blood was no longer spurting out of the gaping neck wound Stoick whipped around to try and find the last dragon – which by now should have gotten over whatever damage his thrown axe had dealt it. Considering its last position, he knew that the dead Nadder before him would at least be good for providing cover to hide behind – but even so he needed to confirm its location before he could do anything else.

This turned out to be simpler than he thought as he spotted it moaning on the ground not far from where he had seen it when he threw the hammer at it. Apparently the Nadder managed to sidestep the blow and instead of smashing into its nose horn, the hammer collided with its left wing – lacerating the fragile membrane and shattering its bones in multiple places. This was by far the worst place to get damaged for a dragon, as if it had taken the blow directly to its nose the most he could have hoped for would be a cracked nose-horn and a minor concussion which it would have shaken off within minutes.

The wings on the other hand… He grinned savagely at his luck, bloodlust glittering within his eyes – dragon wings and tails were prime targets for crippling dragons due to the high difficulty of healing wing wounds and because any amputated appendages could not be regrown – without wings or a tail a dragon could not fly and would not survive a single month. Most of those dragons that were thus damaged during the dragon raid actually took their own lives at the end when they discovered they could not fly away with the others, ripping their throats out with their claws, throwing themselves off the cliffs to break on the rocks below or drown in the unforgiving waters, or even in some cases simply falling down dead without anything to show why – almost as if their hearts just stopped beating between one moment and the next.

Still, it was better to be sure – even a downed dragon during a dragon raid was a threat to other Vikings who might not notice it sneaking up behind them. Making up his mind Stoick took out his dagger from the neck of the dead Nadder and with a battle cry rushed towards the downed dragon.

The Nadder was obviously in too much pain to do anything but move its head slightly and gaze at him with one of its eyes from the side of its face; and Stoick felt himself stagger for a second – those eyes… They were no longer the tight slits that all Vikings have gotten used to, nor were they consumed by anger and hatred – if he had to describe them, he would compare them to the eyes of the dragons they kept for training – at least when they were not actually battling in the ring. For the first time in his life he could see pain in the eyes of a dragon, pain and fear – almost as if it was afraid of him – afraid of the one that has come to kill it. He hesitated for a second – for a brief moment he considered just letting it live; it was going to kill itself in any case when it realized it could not leave with the others so it's not like it would matter if he granted it that small mercy…

…Mercy…

His eyes clouded in anger and he was no longer capable of discerning anything but the body of a Nadder lying in front of him – beckoning for him to kill it. _The bloody dragons give no mercy to us – they raid us and kill us – they have cost many of us to lose their loved ones – THEY HAVE COST ME MY WIFE!_

_There would be no mercy for the bloody dragons, just like they did not give any to us. _The eyes of the Nadder continued to stare at him, but he could no longer see anything in them – they were nothing more than orbs of tissue, and just as capable of expressing feelings as the rubble under his feet. It was foolish of him for even a second to contemplate the idea of them feeling scared – for what would a bloody beasts only interested in destruction know of emotions.

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* * *

.

The cursed darkness that had surrounded my mind was starting to disperse, the fog that had permeated far enough to surround my soul finally loosening its hold upon me ever so slightly, and for the first time since what felt like forever I could think again.

The eternity was coming to an end.

I dared not look at my mind, for I could _feel_ that it was in disrepair – and if I broke down from seeing it the darkness may return and I may lose my chance.

Instead I searched out for the bond that I knew must be there.

The nigh invisible connection between mind and body.

A sliver of fear passed through me and my mind's flame flickered faintly.

I could not feel it.

How was that possible?

I searched again…

And my mind was assaulted by pain as the link snapped back into full view.

What in the name of the endless abyss!?

I couldn't even get a general picture of what my eyes were seeing since the entire connection to my body was focused on nothing but unadulterated pain! I could already feel my mind shutting down from all this punishment, even as I fought against that.

If I fell unconscious now, it was highly doubtful that I would wake up again.

Attempting to block out the pain I steeled myself for what I knew I had to do.

With a final prayer to the twin goddesses I threw myself into the link between my mind and body, fighting all the while against the flow of pain coming out of it.

I awoke out in the real world to chaotic shouting, angry roars of other dragons, burning flames all around me, and blinding pain from my left wing. Snapping my head towards it, I stared with disbelief at what had at one point been a healthy wing.

It took everything for me not to faint from the sight – as it was I could not stop myself from recoiling and closing my eyes in the forlorn hopes that this was all a dream.

What had once been my perfectly fine left wing was now a mass of tatters, broken bone, flesh, and blood.

Disbelief still prevalent in my mind I attempted to lift it up and could feel my very soul rend itself into a thousand pieces as I heard the nauseating sound of bone grating against bone and saw what was left of my wing lift off the ground by the few threads of membrane that still held it together – the bone having been shattered in so many places that pieces of it were dangling down, barely attached to the flesh as it is.

I felt the torturous pain that stabbed at my mind and could not decide whether it was from the destroyed nerves of my lost wing or a mental response to _knowing_ that my wing was far beyond repair.

In my mind, I _knew_ with all the certainty of the immortality of my soul that there were only two paths left for me – death… or the cursed existence as a _NaaiNe_. So only one path really, death – I would never allow _it_ to take over my body.

Yet another loud scream pierced through the air – but this one was close by, unlike the rest.

I dragged my head along the ground to move whatever was made that sound into my left eye's field of vision – as much to be able to see what it was, as to be able to open my eyes without having to see _that_ again.

Somehow I was not surprised by the heavyset Viking that was now approaching me. I knew of the god forsaken war that was destroying my kind – even now a fallen _RunaEfai_ was lying in a slowly widening pool of blood to the side and a dead _MaegNur_ like me behind the Viking – likely his latest kill – not counting me.

I had lived for a long time before the darkness, and have diligently trained my skills all the while. I knew that the shadow that smothered my mind had attempted to tear it down to nothing – leaving me as nothing but a soul within a body – a puppet for it to use. It had likely succeeded with the young ones, but I was stronger than them. Nowhere near strong enough to rival it, but still strong enough to get flashes of what my body was doing even through the darkness – strong enough to see both of its ethereal bodies through the darkness it surrounded itself with.

Looking straight into the eyes of the approaching Viking I silently pleaded him to let me go. I was already as good as dead – none of our kind can survive with our minds intact longer than a single moon cycle without touching the sky at least once. I knew that even if he let me go I would end this life to stop my mind from plunging into insanity within the next few sun cycles, but perhaps I could make a difference before that.

I knew that he was coming to kill me – both my knowledge of the war and the twisted hunger within his eyes made that obvious, and yet I could not die here! I had to do something to stop all this useless slaughter! I could hear all the others of my kin mindlessly ravaging the village – and what was worse; I could _feel_ their minds around me. Minds surrounded with that same vile darkness as mine was just a few moments ago. My strength was nowhere close to the forsaken one's, but it should still be enough to allow me to free some of them – the beast was too far away from the village and its influence spread too thin over all the others in our tribe to stop me from doing that much…

Even crippled as I was, I should be able to do that much before I let the eternal abyss take me…

Right?

The Viking staggered in his approach as our eyes locked and I could see doubt seeping into his eyes. For a moment I allowed myself to hope – hope that had been so prevalent when the darkness left my mind; hope that had been ruthlessly drowned in pain and loss upon finding out about my crippled wing. And yet at the same time it was different – It wasn't hope for myself, but for the my kin flying around me.

Alas, all my hopes were for naught.

The human's eyes, so undecided and uncertain just a moment ago had once again hardened back to the solid steel-like orbs that they were before. The connection between us broke – the venom had returned to his eyes, and I let my eyes close.

So much hatred and anger in them…

So much pain…

I knew that even as the avatar of my death approached me, he did not see me.

_The greatest difference between us and humans,_ my mother used to tell me, _is that we live in the present, while humans are stuck in the past._

I had seen her words be proven true countless times – for as the saying goes, 'dragons forgive, but never forget; while humans forget but never forgive.'

Even now, as my death approached, I had already forgiven the Viking for deciding to kill me – just as I had already forgiven him for likely being the cause of death of the other two dragons; and for probably being the one to cripple me. He on the other hand, did not even see me – I knew that from my last look into his eyes. My death was nothing more to him than fruitless vengeance.

Vengeance… Such a _human_ concept…

There was a sharp pain within my chest, and my abdominal muscles clenched involuntarily before relaxing as numbness spread through my body. I was knowledgeable enough to _feel_ my heart splutter uselessly and stop from the piece of metal stuck in it.

The numbness had now consumed my entire body, and I felt my consciousness be thrust out of it and back into my mind.

Turning my perception inwards I gazed at my mind – completely unsurprised at its wretched appearance.

I was right that time when I first awoke – my mind's condition was just barely better than my wing had been.

_Not that it matters now_, I thought as I watched the connection between my mind and body slowly disintegrate as my body died. Naturally the rest of my mind was not faring any better – already the flame had gone out and my soul was shedding everything that made me, me – my memories, personality, and emotions.

The connection works both ways after all – just as the body could not live without the mind and the soul, the mind could not remain stable without the body. With my body now dead, my mind was losing cohesion and breaking apart.

At the very least, in my last moments I had been free. In a way, I was one of the lucky few; countless of my kin had already died and would continue to be slaughtered without even awakening from the darkness.

I am not even dejected about my death – after all, even death is a small price to pay for this brief moment of freedom.

The last flakes of myself disintegrated and all that was left of me was my soul –

…

- still an unblemished and undefiled obsidian like sphere as it had been when she was gifted with it upon her birth.

With all her memories gone, with her thoughts halted, she stared uncomprehendingly into the abyss that her soul was sinking into.

And then there was true darkness.

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* * *

.

Turning away from the downed dragon Stoick absentmindedly wiped the blood off his dagger and surveyed the scene – besides the three dead Vikings and the more recently added three dead dragons he spotted a group of Vikings rushing towards him. _Finally!_

"By gods chief! What happened here?"

"The dragons killed three of us before I got here but I took care of the damn beasts. Never mind that for now – more importantly what are the dragons concentrating on?"

"Mostly on the sheep as always, but – "The ground shook from another explosion close by as pieces of wood rained down.

"No time for that now! Just take care of the damn Zipplebacks destroying the houses while I take care of the Nadders stealing the sheep! – Oh, and light the damn torches will ya? We have them for a reason, and they aren't doing us much good unlit on the ground – at least with them above we will be able to see what is attacking us!"

Not giving the others a chance to reply Stoick ran off towards the main hall. The meagre pastures available on this islet were close to it and with the dragons concentrating on stealing the sheep it would be much simpler to capture them with nets or just downright kill them. If he could just marshal the others to take care of that, he would be able to take over on the towers to handle any of the monstrous Nightmares that usually tried to burn them down.

Still, everything was going well (he tried not to think about the three dead Vikings and possibly countless others whose bodies he hasn't seen yet) and from what he could tell no flame pillars or Nightfuries have yet appeared. Possibly even better he could not spot any telltale signs of his son which hopefully meant that Hiccup would not be causing any major disasters this time around.

"What're you doing out!?"

"Get back inside!"

"Sorry – excuse me – passing through…"

_Oh by Odin's single all-seeing eye! – is it possible for me to have just one dragon raid without his interference!? _Stoick would have banged his head helplessly against the wall if he had not been in such a hurry – further expounded by the need to take care of his son before he got himself killed. Picking up his pace he rushed in the direction of the commotion. _At the very least he seems to be heading towards the Meade hall as well; if I catch him fast enough I can get him to Gobbers and get that status update with hardly a detour. _Strangely enough he did not seem to be gaining on his son. N_ever thought he was that fast…_

The chase continued until Stoick breathed a sigh of relief in front of the Meade hall when he caught Hiccup by the scruff of his neck just moments before he would have jumped straight in the path of a Nadder's flames.

"What are you doing out again!? I thought I told you to get to Gobber's when I left!" he bellowed.

"Hey dad – I was just – "

"I don't have the time for this – just get back inside, stay at Gobbers and try not to destroy everything this time – Ok?" he quickly cut his son off to prevent himself from having to listen to whatever hare brained scheme his son had come up with now. Pushing him off towards Gobber's house Stoick looked around. Now with his son out of the way he could focus on more important things.

Like for example that Nadder flying by. Quickly grabbing the partially destroyed cart lying conveniently nearby, he threw it at the beast. The throw was nearly perfect – a wonder really for an object never meant to be used in such a way – but the dragon managed to right itself mid-flight as the remains of the cart fell to the ground below it. _Damn – it was such a good shot too. _He knew he did not have enough time to chase after it, but that still did not prevent him from hoping that he could – it was a Nadder after all.

Sighing he turned towards the other Vikings. "What have we got?"

Bert was the one who answered due to his position as the closest available Viking who was not busy fending off the damn beasts. _Good man Bert – good dragon fighting instincts, and nigh invaluable on fishing expeditions, almost as if he has a nose for good locations and approaching storms_. Stoick idly noted recognizing the Viking.

"Gronckles, Nadders, Zipplebacks, - oh and Hork saw a monstrous Nightmare" That was more or less what he had expected. He kind of hoped that Hork was not one of the three he was too late to save, but it was too late now in any case.

Heedless of the nearby explosion that rained flaming bits around him Stoick continued. "Any Nightfuries?"

"None so far" They all knew that both the question and the reply were unnecessary – it was impossible to miss the arrival of a Nightfury into battle – but sometimes the question came unbidden, almost like a reflex. Besides which, it always felt like the situation was so much better than it was whenever such a question was answered in the negative.

"Good" he acknowledged while absentmindedly flicking off a charcoaled piece of debris from his shoulder. _Now if we can just take down the dragons swarming around the sheep and trying to carry them off without too much collateral damage or any more casualties this will be one of the better raids – good thing too, I was worried for a second there and thought that it would be a major raid when I first came outside. As long as there are no unexpected surprises…_

That was when the sky lit up a bright blood red color as a pillar of fire rose to the heavens from one of the houses closer to the docks. _Gods damn it all…_ He had really hoped to have at least one raid without a spontaneous combustion of a draconic corpse. No one really knew why, but while dragons were completely fireproof while alive they literally became exceptionally susceptible to draconic (and only draconic) fire – fortunately only a direct hit would cause one of these pillars, and the dragons seemed dumb enough to not attempt to intentionally set fire to their fallen comrades (he could only shudder at the devastation that would cause), but when they occurred the pillars were an order of magnitude more dangerous than their regular fire.

Squinting his eyes against the exceptionally bright flames lighting up the night like a continuous lightning bolt, Stoick attempted to discern the location it was coming from. Each pillar was extremely focused, so while they would incinerate the dragon and anything within (more or less) its wingspan around it leaving behind nothing but black charred ground, ash, and a weird fist sized obsidian marble; anything outside those strict confines was mostly left intact. He cursed – judging by the width of the pillar the dragon was either an exceptionally large Nadder or a monstrous Nightmare, and even worse it was between two houses when it was set off; meaning that both houses would require major repairs even if the younglings could get the fires from spreading fast enough…

_Make that one house would require major repairs… _He corrected himself as one of the houses turned into a flaming fireball – likely the pillar ignited a nearby Zippleback's gas cloud.

"That was the first fire-pillar of the raid wasn't it?"

Bert could only nod in response, incapable of speaking or of tearing his eyes from the sight. Stoick could understand him – the battle had come to a pause for a moment as the Vikings and dragons alike turned to look at the fiery spear piercing into the heavens. It was an almost instinctive reaction – only the gods knew why they did that. He himself had to push the words out of his mouth and only managed to force himself to look away from it after years of experience – even now it was nigh impossible to turn his head far enough for the pillar to disappear from view. He would have thought it as yet another part of the dragon's demonic powers, if it wasn't for them also becoming enthralled in that fiery spear piercing the heavens.

He could not stop himself from closing his eyes when the pillar suddenly tightened into a thin line and seemed to _shatter_ into glowing white embers, finally releasing them all from its hypnotic embrace. He sometimes wondered what it was about Vikings and dragons that caused such a reaction, and why sheep and other animals were not captivated the same way.

_At least that is over with._ With a sigh he turned back towards Bert and idly noted a small tear streaking down his left eye. It was yet another strange reaction to that pillar, and almost without thought Stoick reached out and wiped his own tear. _Not that it mattered really – nothing more than a simple reaction of our eyes from gazing at something so bright…_ And yet he could not quite bring himself to believe that.

He shook his head. _Not the time for such idle thoughts! Concentrate! You have an entire village to protect!_

Shaking the last of the effects of the flame pillar from his mind, Stoick pulled himself together and turned back towards the other Vikings milling around him.

"I want you all to concentrate on the sheep – the dragons will be trying to steal them and be easy pickings for you. Use nets if you spot them in a group – doesn't matter if you get some sheep along with them; just make sure that none of them escape or even worse carry off any sheep! Dead sheep we can work with, eaten or carried off – not so much."

Turning around he was already heading off when Bert yelled out after him "What about you chief? You know – In case we need to find you."

"I'll take command at the catapults – shoot down any dragons that you do not reach – by now it's really all about the sheep!" Not even bothering to look back or break his stride Stoick yelled over his shoulder.

The road to the catapults was through the center of the village, and gave him an unparalleled view of the fighting happening on both sides of him. From the brief glances he could spare it seemed that his Vikings were doing reasonably well – he could count over ten dead dragons laying around and at least twice that amount captured in nets with Vikings vigorously hammering at them. He could see several unnaturally still human bodies lying around as well – some burnt until they were barely recognizable, and some with their blood seeping into the cobblestones around them from obviously fatal wound. He could even spot some looking as if they just keeled over and fallen asleep in the middle of battle, he could only hope that they were simply paralyzed from a Nadder's poison rather than being downright dead from a Zippleback's acid or unseen wounds…

_I just hope that Gobber is keeping an eye out for Hiccup – he could really get hurt badly one of these times…_

If there was anything that could bring out Stoick's deeply buried parental instincts, it was seeing the mangled bodies of his fellow Vikings and realizing that there was a very real chance that one of these days, his son would be lying around like them – with glazed eyes staring into nothing and his heart having released its last beat.

He just didn't know if he could survive that – while he simply could not be proud of the way his son had turned out (and proclaimed often to others), he still loved his son and would have protected him with his life even without that promise he made to his wife.

In more ways than one, his son was the only thing keeping him sane – that and the heavy duty towards his villagers as their chief; after all, everyone around him relied on him to make sure they lived through the harshest of winters and the largest dragon attacks.

.

* * *

**A/N**

Hiccup, Gobber, Stoick, and lots of battle. What is there not to like?

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Saienai Signing off.


	5. 1st-4: Fire and Steel

**~Ouroboros~**

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**1st - 4. Fire and Steel**

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.

Hiccup cursed under his breath as his legs left the ground. Someone grabbed him by the neck of his jacket and lifted him in the air! Worse still they did that when he was in a full sprint and the sudden stop caused the cuff of his jacket to dig painfully into his neck. _They could have unintentionally strangled me with that maneuver! Seriously – did they not think before…_

His mind ground to a halt as the road in front of him was bathed in fiery flames from a passing dragon, coating the cobblestones with a thin layer of ash. If he had kept running he could very well have gotten caught in it… _On second thought, slight strangulation is completely acceptable. Makes you feel alive, it does. _He was still facing away from whoever saved him and wondered who it was that saved him.

"What are you doing out again!? I thought I told you to get to Gobber's when I left!"

_Ah – well, that answered that question._ He could recognise that voice anywhere – the not too deep but with a hit of a guttural growl voice which was always shaded with exasperation and just a tinge of regret when aimed towards him. So much so that it was all too easy sometimes for Hiccup to see the perpetual scowl on that face to go along with the voice.

It was – of course – Stoick. Well, it was time to face the music.

"Hey dad – I just – " Hiccup had to stop there. What WAS he doing? Why was he just running around like a chicken with its head cut off – enthralled in the hectic chaos around him as Vikings took care of the dragons? _I think I may have gotten just a bit too excited by the raid – I should have headed straight to Gobber's to get the Mangler! It's not like I can take on a dragon by myself without help…_

"-Gobber's, and try not to destroy everything this time – Ok?" Hiccup felt himself be bodily thrown to the side as his father shifted his focus back to the battle.

Oops – he had missed his dad's reply and asking for a repeat would be a sure fire way of getting him started on a long speech. _Quick – what was he talking about? – Besides the necessary bit about keeping out of trouble… Get to Gobber's? _Considering by the direction he was thrust towards that was as good a guess as any; besides which – Stoick only really trusted Gobber to handle him. _I am not THAT bad… _

_Well, I mean – most of the failures are not exactly my fault… – _Thought Hiccup as he swerved around the rushing Vikings who were just finishing lighting up the huge torch bowls and raising them into the air to shine a light at the incoming dragons. – _Once I get to Gobber's the hardest part will be getting out again – knowing him he would do anything to prevent me from joining in on the raid. _He could understand Gobber – dragon raids were quite dangerous, possibly even more so for him with his untested weapons. _But this time – it will work. All I need is a relatively calm area to set up the Mangler and then a nice, clean shot at a passing dragon… Oh, like the Nightfury when it shows up…_

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* * *

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Gobber looked critically at the recently heated and almost hopelessly bent sword in his hand that he had been trying for the past minute to straighten out. Some young Viking had likely thought it was a good idea to take a stab or a swipe at a Gronckle – completely ignoring centuries of wisdom which should have instinctively made him take out a hammer against it. _Damn idiots don't even care about their weapons – at least ten swords had already come in bent or broken like this!_

Sometimes he just couldn't stand them, and their excuses just grated against his nerves – 'oh but I was sure that if I put enough force behind it, it would pierce that armour!' or 'there really wasn't enough time to get a different weapon!' or his personal favourite 'It looked softer than the rest – I thought that might be a weak point!'

A loud crack reverberated through the smithery and Gobber bit back a curse. With his thoughts wondering about he had hit the sword at a wrong angle too hard and snapped it completely. _What is wrong with me today? It has been several years since I made a stupid mistake like that…_ It was probably just the dragon raid, he decided while chucking the hilt of the broken sword to the side and picking up another one – this one slightly less bent that the last one, but still just as painful to look at.

_Besides which – with Hiccup gone who knows where, I am getting swamped by Vikings requesting a weapon change._ It was the unfortunate truth for him that Vikings had a strange tendency of going through weapons during dragon raids that some people can go through arrows – only without the option of scavenging for them after battle. It was also the reason why making new weapons and fixing old ones took up most of his time – he probably went through enough weapons in a month to equip the village three times over!

Sad really, considering everything that was an underestimation of the actual amounts.

Gobber's thoughts ground to a halt as he noticed Hiccup rush into the forge. _Ah – finally._

"Nice of you to join the party – Thought you would have been carried off by now, eh?"

"Who – me? Naw, I'm WAY too muscular for their taste – they know better than to cross my path when I am armed with a pair of these."

Gobber smiled at Hiccup's failing attempts of flexing his muscles – unlike many of the other Vikings he liked the usual snappy comebacks from his apprentice – it was quite frankly relaxing (a good thing during a raid) to have a go at the friendly banter, and neither of them took it too seriously either so there was no worry about stepping on anyone's toes.

"Not sure about the muscles, haven't seen much of them on your frame – forgot them at home again didn't ya? Still, they need toothpicks – don't they? What with all the tough Vikings or woolly sheep getting stuck in their teeth – must be awful."

Hiccup did not answer and instead focused on opening the shutters of the shop and grabbing the weapons on the windowsill from the next wave of Vikings looking for a quick replacement. Gobber felt pride at that – no matter what the others would say about Hiccup's weaknesses, he knew there was more to his apprentice. Hiccup was a strong alloy of determination, will, and a shockingly bright mind – a perfect combination for a blacksmith. _Even my son – _Gobber was prepared for the brief stab of pain that thought brought up; he had accepted his son's death and knew that he would meet him again – likely sooner rather than later if one considered that he joined dragon battles every chance he got, and the chances of survival were quite low due to his missing arm and leg – even with his experience… _Still – even my son would have looked at me for guidance at this point; but not Hiccup – no… He had already started to prepare them for repairs… I will definitely make sure that he takes over after me – if both of us live long enough for that._

That was when the night sky lit up bright red from the pillar of fire rising into the heavens from in between two of the nearby houses. _Well, there goes the first pillar of this raid – hope we don't have more than two this time…_ Naturally Viking houses got some fireproofing done – you couldn't very well survive against fire breathing dragons otherwise – but some things like a concentrated gas explosion from a Zippleback or a full out spray of liquid fire from a Nightmare could still blow up or burn down a house. Even worse than those were the plasma bolts of a Nightfury – being like the combined efforts of a Zippleback and a Nightmare, just even more focused and unfortunately without any limitations on the number of shots it could make. But the ultimate prize would have to go to the pillars – they did not blow up or set things on fire – _no, they incinerate anything caught within the circle…_ _If you are lucky you can still survive even a Nightfury's blast close to point blank – but nothing survives being within the limits when the pillars go up. Wood, bones, steel – anything and everything caught within gets turned to ash._ And he really did not want to imagine the temperatures needed for _steel_ to turn to ash.

Gobber, just like every other being on the island at that moment, could not tear his eyes away from the sight – even though he had to narrow them until they were just barely open due to the sheer wall of light smashing against him due to their proximity to it. He could not see Hiccup, but he was sure that his apprentice was just as incapable of tearing his eyes away from it as he was.

The pillar only lasted for half a minute before suddenly thinning and breaking apart into ash, but that was enough to incinerate a greater part of one house and set off a fast spreading fire on the other one. With it over with Gobber could look around again and spotted Hiccup rushing towards the counter near the door and leaning out to breathe in the full scene of destruction outside.

"Fire!"

"Get the younglings to put it out! You focus on keeping the dragons away from here!"

_Good plan_. Gobber reflected. _This way the younglings do the necessary work while at the same time keeping them from any seriously dangerous situations._ More or less what he was doing here with Hiccup – although his job was much more difficult, what with Hiccup's nigh surreal ability at getting into trouble.

Gobber did not spare any more thought to the nearly incinerated portion of the village – it was over and done with, and if the younglings did their job correctly… He felt a wave of heat along his back and modified his train of thought – _It's still only two destroyed houses – still far below the expected collateral damage for a raid this large._

Turning around to switch his hammer to a smaller size, Gobber noticed Hiccup just in time to prevent him from falling out over the counter – apparently his apprentice was much too focused on the other younglings – or perhaps on the 'love of his love' (he personally just considered it as 'youthful infatuation', if that) – Astrid.

"Oh come on – let me go! I need to make my mark."

"No worries – you've already made plenty of those! I think there is still a few charred areas near the Meade hall where you tried to use that sleeping powder you came up with on a monstrous Nightmare – granted it was barely standing up by the end, but that had more to do with it having spent five minutes sneezing liquid fire everywhere within a hundred foot circle around it! It actually managed to do more damage to the village than a fire pillar – and I have to admit – that takes Talent!"

"That was my first try! You have to agree that things do not usually work out on the first try!"

Gobber could not stop himself from rolling his eyes and raising one of his eyebrows at that. "… Or on the second, third, fourth, fifth… I forget – how many of these ideas have ya come up with so far?" He counted off on his fingers before spreading out his hands in a 'there you go' gesture.

Hiccup flinched and Gobber felt a peck of worry pass through him – had he taken this too far? Hiccup did not usually mind him ribbing at the previous attempts, but perhaps the mounting failures have started to get to him? "Come on – all I need is two minutes! Get out there, kill a dragon, and get back! Simple, easy, and as a result my life will get infinitely better – I may even get a date."

Apparently he had worried about nothing. If Hiccup could joke about getting dates then he was obviously fine. _At least I think that was a joke – Hiccup couldn't have been serious, right? _Gobber sometimes felt more like Hiccup's father than Stoick was, but surely he would not be expected to brief his apprentice on anything pertaining to THAT topic… _Right? _It didn't matter that he and Stoick were almost brothers – he would clear the village walls and be halfway to the opposite side of the island even without his wooden leg before he was roped into that.

Pointing off the weapons he was talking about Gobber continued the banter – after all the replacement weapons and shields were ready, so realistically all he needed to do during dragon raids was to exchange used weapons for new ones – any repairs he did during the raids were more to keep him from running off to join the fight than for any good it will do.

"And how will you do that eh? – You can't lift a battle-hammer – you can't swing an axe – heck, you can't even throw a bola without tying yourself in it along with any unfortunate Vikings within range!" lifting one of the bolas and shaking it at Hiccup before it was grabbed from his hand by Bert who was just looking for a new weapon. From the grunt of exertion followed by a heavy thud and an animalistic moan, Bert had provided an exemplary show of how to properly use a bola by tying up a flying dragon and lowering its flying capabilities to those of a brick.

"Ok, fine – but this will throw it for me."

Gobber felt his well-honed danger senses gained during countless dragon raids and further sharpened through Hiccup's antics scream at him the moment he noticed Hiccup approaching the strange contraption he had been working on in his spare time. Somehow, in the middle of the night with screams and explosions echoing in from the outside the strange chest-on-wheels like object looked much more foreboding than it did before. _Why does that sound eerily like the 'this will swing an axe for me' contraption that almost took my head off?_

Hiccup started to place his hand on the chest and Gobber's danger senses spiked as he noticed that the chest's elongated side was pointing straight towards him. _Shit!_

At the first sign of the chest opening up along it's middle Gobber pushed himself to the side as a heavy object passed through the air his head had inhabited less than a second ago. _That was close… _Judging from the meaty thunk followed by a heavy thud behind him one of the Vikings was not as lucky. _Too close…_

"See – this right here is what I am talking about!" He was no longer in a mood for playful banter.

"Ab- Its- It was- Just a mild calibration issue! I'm sure I can fix – "

Shaking the metal pincers that were currently on his interchangeable stump of a left arm in front of Hiccup's face Gobber cut his apprentice off mid-sentence. "Don't! Just don't. Look Hiccup – If you ever want to get out there to fight dragons ye have to stop all of…"

He paused. There really was no way to describe the changes necessary. "…This" He said while gesturing vaguely in Hiccup's general direction.

"You just pointed to all of me" came the flat toned reply. Perfect! That he could work with!

"Yes – that's it! – Stop being all of you!"

"Ooooh… You sir are playing a dangerous game here – keeping this much _Raw_ Vikingness contained… There will be consequences!"

"I'll take my chances. Axe – sharpened - now."

As Hiccup staggered under the weight of the axe head Gobber threw at him, Gobber allowed himself to relax and pick up one of the swords from the fire to begin hammering at it. Both of them were things that did not need to be done, but it would keep him distracted from the battle going on outside and keep Hiccup busy. If things continued as they have up til how, it was possible that he would not have to get out to help against the dragons, after all so far the defense of the village seemed to be going quite well. _Besides which – I still need to keep an eye on Hiccup to prevent him from slithering off._

His heart plummeted a moment later as he heard the telltale screech steadily rising in volume. He did not need to look outside to know that the other Vikings have also heard it and have frozen for a second to search out the elusive monster making it. The dragons were likely acting the same way – for there was something about that sound that sent a sliver of fear deep into the hearts of any who heard it, human and dragon alike.

"Nightfury!"

"Get down!"

And then came the explosion. Glancing outside through the counter of the forge Gobber could see the flaming remains of the catapult falling off the tower upon which it was situated. The shrill screech started again, this time gaining in volume much faster and cumulating with yet another blue explosion – this time at the base of the tower, completely destroying the foundation and causing the massive assembly of wood and stone to collapse. _Gods help those who were on that tower;_ he could not help but think as the thunderous noise of falling rocks reverberated its way through his forge.

He knew from the frantic cries of the Vikings around and the renewed vigor with which the dragons flew off – likely towards the sheep – that the real dragon raid has only just begun. _Nothing to it – even without an arm and a leg I am still one of the best fighters in the village – I NEED to get out there…_

There was just one problem: Hiccup. In the midst of unlatching the pincers from his arm and screwing in an axe into the specially made metal stump of his left arm, Gobber turned towards his apprentice.

"Mind the fort Hiccup – They need me out there. Just keep replacing the used weapons with new ones for anyone that drops by; and by all the gods – please stay out of trouble!"

Pausing for a second in the doorway Gobber turned around to make sure that nothing will go up in flames without him there – or at least without excessive work or Hiccup's brilliant plans. That was when he saw the look Hiccup was giving him… _Gods I really do not like the barely contained excitement in his eyes and happy grin on his face – I swear he is already planning something!_

"Stay." Somehow that did not seem to convey the grave importance of his instruction. Adding "here" While pointing towards the middle of the forge did not seem to help.

Sighing he finished with a shake of his head and a single "You know what I mean" before yelling out a war cry and hobbling off on his peg leg. _Now if Hiccup actually listens to me for once… Ri-i-ight…_

He just KNEW that this would not end well.

Whether for him, Hiccup, the forge, or the entire village remained to be seen.

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* * *

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Hiccup smiled, heedless of the continuing explosions and increasingly frenzied yelling outside. _Finally! Even better than I could have expected!_

He was just thinking about how to get out with the Mangler that he designed to shoot bolas at a range completely incomparable to that of any Viking's throw distance; but with Gobber gone there was no need to make a distraction! He could just leave, and with the general chaos outside there was almost no chance of anyone taking the time to stop him!

A cursory check of the forge later Hiccup was sure that nothing would inexplicably combust without him there – all the weapons were out of the furnace, no furs lying around for the embers to latch onto, and in the case of dragons setting the place on fire… Well, it wasn't like he could do anything to prevent that in any case – _and if it does happen, at least I would have a good reason for not following Gobber's orders and sticking around the forge…_

Grabbing the Mangler by its handles – unlike some of his earlier inventions which had the unfortunate flaw of being about as portable as a pair of anvils tied to a boulder, this time his design was very much like a wheelbarrow – Hiccup wheeled it around and ran out of the forge. He was actually somewhat surprised at the ease with which he could guide it. Mentally giving himself a pat on the back for a remarkably well made design, he picked up speed and maneuvered around the Vikings that stood – or more often than not ran – in his way.

"Watch it!"

"Out of the way!"

"Hiccup! What are you doing here!"

"Someone get him inside!"

"Hiccup – get back inside!"

Such was the exhilaration that Hiccup felt at being so close to his ultimate goal that he did not even notice himself yelling out "Sorry!" – "Excuse me!" – Or "Yea I will, soon!"

Somehow he managed to get through with the Mangler all the way to the cliff at the edge of the village facing the docks – several hundred feet above the waters below or almost fifty feet higher than Gobber's forge. Although he had to transverse almost a thousand feet through the village in the middle of a dragon attack, Hiccup did not actually notice the journey. More importantly and bordering on miraculous from the concentration of dragons in the village, no dragons noticed _him_. Heedless of his aching legs and groaning back from trudging an equivalent of a wheelbarrow full of rocks – a surprisingly good comparison based on both weight and handling – he let go of the Mangler and opened it up.

From his last few experiments Hiccup had discovered that going into close combat with dragons was a very good way of purchasing a ticket to an exclusive one way trip on a funeral pyre. Thus it was possibly a good thing that his attempt at getting something to swing an axe for him was prematurely destroyed before he even got to test it due to the unfortunate preliminary trial that Gobber had attempted. That design was based on the catapults, just slightly modified to have an axe attached to the swing arm. He still thought that it may have worked – if Gobber did not attempt to use it before Hiccup had attached the wooden arrester that would stop the axe after it had completed its swing – and incidentally prevent it from attempting to chop off the arm of the user... Well – arm, leg, head… whatever was in the wrong place at the time.

There was the small problem of positioning the dragon's neck directly above the device before using it, but Hiccup knew that such minor details would have been solved if only it was not completely and irreparably dismantled the very next day when he came in to work, and by dismantled he meant so thoroughly that the remaining pieces were only useful as kindling – apparently Gobber did not take nearly losing his hand very well. Hiccup really did not understand what the problem was – so what if 'that god damn suicide machine' to quote Gobber had cut cleanly through the hammer's handle attached to his amputated left arm… That only proved that it would have done an excellent job of cutting through a dragon's neck!

Besides which, as he had always told Gobber, it was just a minor calibration issue – Heck! In this case the device wasn't even finished yet! You could not expect things to work when they are half built! Naturally all of that fell on Gobber's deaf ears and the pile of kindling next to him, only serving to make Hiccup frustrated even further when Gobber had thrown him so much work to complete that it was almost a year before he had enough spare time to get around to even thinking about building his next design.

Of course it was still miles better than his very first attempt at a defense design – for a shield that could redirect dragon fire and still be usable after the first shot. Truly, the less said about that attempt the better; let it just be noted that all of his designs afterwards focused on 'taking care' of the dragon before it got around to trying to flame him and resulted in the entire Village begging Gobber and Stoick to prohibit Hiccup from working on shields again. Or anything else really, but the final agreement came to list only shields when it was written up and stored with all the other important documents in the safe box within the Meade hall.

Still, unlike all of his other plans, the Mangler was designed to truly be a long range weapon, compatible – or even, dare he say it, superior to the catapults all Vikings used. It was the pinnacle of almost a year's worth of work, and Hiccup could not stop himself from stepping away from it and just staring at its mechanical beauty when he finished setting it up.

The wheelbarrow like chest was nothing more than a base to stabilize the actual system which was inspired by both the bolas which were the only truly long range weapons besides catapults that were effective against dragons – after all thrown axes, hammers, swords, shields, or carts did not actually count as long range weapons per-se; and bows – which while almost indispensable on hunting expeditions, were nearly completely useless against dragons due to their scales and quick healing. Well, the standard bows anyways – those that a Viking could use, or roughly three times as strong as those used by traders or their guards.

The Mangler on the other hand was powered by two heavy bows that even a Viking would find difficult to draw to its full length and was truly a breathtaking sight to behold – at least to his eyes; extruding an aura of power and grace that was not something that could be said of his earlier designs it stood pristine in the midst of chaos. Will you look at that – he was waxing poetically just from the sight of it.

It was truly a masterpiece; the complex pulley system for drawing the bows alone took several months to design and several more to test out. His mind nearly broken from all of the failures compounded by his father's lack of belief (or pride, hope, trust…); he had poured his heart and mind into designing, constructing, and testing out this contraption. It was his last attempt – for no matter what brave face he showed the rest of the village, he was truly barely hanging on to his sanity; to his belief that he could find acknowledgement with the other Vikings… that his father would for once in his life see him – actually see him as his son, and not as a failure…

… And the result in front of him was unrivaled. In the midst of yet another dragon battle, surrounded by flames and the cacophony of screams and yells; Hiccup could almost feel confidence radiating from the polished wooden sides of his creation. Almost as if it knew of the sleepless nights he spent on it and wanted nothing more than to pay him back for it. He could almost hear its soothing voice (if it had any) telling him to calm down and aim it.

As yet another blue plasma bolt rend the air and sunk one of the boats in the docks far below him, his hands drew towards the trigger and dragged the rest of his body to position it behind the Mangler. As his eyes broke contact with his creation and started to search the skies for that one elusive dragon that was now his prey, he could almost feel the tightened bow string ready to be released. His breathing slowed down and his eyes stopped darting around in search of his phantom target. There was no longer any apprehension in him, nor were his hands anything but rock steady. He knew… He KNEW with the certainty of the sun rising that this time everything would work out.

Another screech with the customary screams of "Nightfury!" was followed by the expected explosion of yet another tower… And then he saw the dark shape of a dragon pass before him – clearly outlined in the glowing moon behind it.

With all of the inevitability of thunder after a lightning strike Hiccup felt himself calmly align the Mangler to a point just in front of the shadow before him and pull on the trigger.

It wasn't until he heard the sound of the bola piercing through the air and felt the recoil from the Mangler which launched him backwards to sprawl on the ground that Hiccup felt control return to his body as he almost instantly pushed himself into a half-sitting position and stared at the sky hoping beyond hope to see some sign of his success.

A mournful cry pierced the air and Hiccup felt a grin split his face as he saw the shadow falling towards the forest on the main island.

_I did it…_

_I actually did it…_

"I hit it… I actually hit it!"

Whirling around as he had seen countless Viking champions do to revel in the death of a monstrous Nightmare at the end of dragon training, and how he had seen himself do in countless fantasies; Hiccup spread out his arms to better take in the expected wall of cheers of all the Vikings that he could see standing before him as they stared slack jawed at the sheer impossibility of that which he had just accomplished.

"Did anyone see that!?"

The sharp cracking sounds behind him brought him out of his visions as he realised that he was quite alone on this cliff on the outskirts of the village – or at least the only human around. With a sigh he turned around to stare at the red jaws choke full of teeth the size of his arm that seemed to be grinning at him from above the broken remains of the Mangler. His mouth opening on its own accord he spoke the first words that came into his mind.

"Except for you"

The dragon's only response was an ear piercing roar.

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* * *

**A/N**

Didn't want to change the story too much this early on while simultaneously didn't want to do what I have seen several others do and simply re-tell the movie almost word for word. Hopefully I accomplished that much. If any of you are wondering when the story will break away from the movie's plotline... Well stick around and find out.

Thank you all who read my story.

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Saienai Signing off.


	6. 1st-5: Heavy is the Price of Freedom

**~Ouroboros~**

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**1****st**** - 5. The Heavy Price of Freedom**

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How long has it been?

How long have I been stuck within this cocoon of darkness?

This endless abyss…

Floating within the eternal darkness that stretches all around me.

Instinctually I know that this is not the real world – there is just something _different_ about this place – a feeling of _endlessness_ and freedom (even the darkness cannot completely muffle that), a feeling of infinite expanse around you in any direction that makes you _want_ to just curl your wings to your sides and _dive_ down (if you had any wings that is). And yet there is an innate knowledge and an instinctual fear of going too deep – if that makes sense.

If I had to relate this to something I might say it is like swimming in the ocean – where you can just continue floating with water all around you – where no matter where you look there is only water – endlessly in all directions. But it is not water that surrounds you…

It is the essence of souls – and you are nothing but a single insignificant being within it – insignificant to all but you and those that you allow to swim close by.

Is it really any wonder that we believe that this realm of the mind, the place where we are all born into and live in – the aptly named sea of souls – is the domain of the twin sky goddesses of the moon and the sun that govern all life and death?

Raising my eyes – or considering that here we are nothing but a cloud of existence; a brightly burning flame – shifting my perception upwards I know what I expect to see…

The nearly blinding expanse – stretching into the far reaches above – the infinite freedom from which we are all born from, so akin to the endless sky in the material world… A sharp contrast to the darkness below – where pressure constantly builds up upon your mind until you can no longer take it and your soul condenses into a small marble to float within the endless darkness of death – a crevice so deep that depth itself no longer matters, only the infinite pressures within – the abyss of souls where none may venture – the furthest depths of consciousness.

But there is no light above me; no sky to offer hope – instead… there is only darkness.

Darkness – just as with everything else around – nothing but an endless black fog surrounding me…

Darkness and pressure smothering me within its embrace – and yet deep down I know that I have not fallen down into the realm of the moon goddess; for within the true abyss all thoughts flee and the flame of your mind goes out. Thus I _know_ that I am still within the boundary between light and darkness – whatever it is that surrounds me does not have that feeling of _finality_ of the abyss.

The fog around me is something akin to a half-hearted attempt to recreate the realm of the moon goddess – but unfortunately even half-hearted attempts can be dangerous.

It eats away at me – coming closer and tearing away at the outer layer of my flames, tendrils of it slowly encroaching into the inner flickers of my mind.

A sense of dread passes through me as I realize that the tendrils have long since surrounded me – penetrating deeper into my mind much like roots digging into earth.

I would attempt to force them out – but they have already reached in too deeply – just as with everyone else, my power comes from the soul and is molded and directed by the mind – with my mind in the condition it is in, the glowing light of power from my soul slips through my grasp and disperses uselessly into the darkness around me…

_How long has it been… really?_

The nearly imperceptible movements of the dark tendrils – so painstakingly slow, and yet inevitable in their movement that I have long since gotten used to the fiery pain that I know I should be feeling as they literally rend my mind apart; that I must have felt when this all started – _when was that… really_ – when did all this start… why haven't I been able to stop it when I still had the power to?

The pain of corruption is nothing more than background noise to me now… Guess it is true that your mind can get used to anything if it exposed to it long enough…

Oh goddesses please tell me – How long have I been trapped here…

How many times has the goddess of the night relinquished control of the material world outside the sea of souls to the goddess of the sun…

A single moon's worth?

Or a _moonfull_ of Cycles worth?

Who really cares – my people have never been beings of the past or future as those humans – we dragons are beings of the _now_.

Perhaps it is the influence of being trapped within this shadow– whatever it really is – that I wonder about the past and try to access my memories which surround the center of my soul so as to figure out the exact time since I fell into the darkness…

…Nothing…

I would be horrified if I could only muster the strength to care… Those forsaken tendrils have long since passed and corrupted the outer flames – for I cannot feel the link to my body outside. They have long since passed deeper into my thoughts and emotions for otherwise I would not be so dispassionate about all this… And they have likely already spread their corruption into my memories for I cannot remember anything beyond the endless darkness that surrounds me.

All that is left is the inner core – the center of my mind – my soul.

At the very least I know that no matter what happens the tendrils will never encroach upon my soul – for the soul is incorruptible, and I draw strength from that.

It matters not that my body has been sealed away from me…

It matters not that my emotions have been dulled such that I cannot even feel happiness or vindication at this thought and even my thoughts feel sluggish in my mind…

It does not even matter that the last of my memories flee from me and I can no longer even remember what I have been thinking about before stumbling to this topic…

My soul will survive – and perhaps sometime in the future the tendrils that even now surround it will be removed and my soul will heal what is left of me.

My body may rot away and my memories be mercilessly stripped away as I finally descend into the cold embrace of the goddess of the moon – but my soul will survive and rebuild my mind – re-establish a connection to my body outside.

If not my current body; then perhaps the next one…

If not in this life…

Then the next.

…

He could feel the dark veins binding themselves around his core – He would fight against it, but the last remains of his resistance has long been sapped away. Dispassionately he knew that any moment now the last connections between his core and the rest of him will be…

_[Disconnected]_

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* * *

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The eternal darkness that was all I knew for what felt like forever was finally coming to an end.

After an eternity of knowing nothing, feeling nothing, and worst of all _thinking_ nothing – just _existing_ – I finally felt in control of my own mind again.

_Again?_ I can't quite remember – but something within me tells me that this is not the first time I was master of myself – there was another time before.

Before the darkness? – _Was there ever such a time?_

I can't remember – but it does not seem important at the moment for I have glanced at my own mind and recoiled in horror.

Even though I can't remember ever seeing another mind (or my own before this for that matter), I know that it should not look like this. The flame is barely burning with an almost imperceptible red flicker –

_It should be a bright majestic sky blue color and almost three times bigger than it is!_

Now where did that thought come from?

No matter – the dark fog around my mind is dispersing and my soul will heal my mind – as long as the mind is still awake, any damage to it can be healed, no matter how great… _I hope so at least – for I doubt I have or will ever see a mind as bleak as this…_

The shattered remains of my mind, barely holding on to my soul which in and of itself is surrounded by the tattered memories that I could not even access as they were as close to falling away as they could be while still being there…

And the cursed dark tentacles surrounding my soul, stretching outwards through my mind – no longer connected to the darkness that had surrounded me, but still there, like a strangling vine – or perhaps poison ivy, unwilling to let go even after their core had been torn away.

I wonder then if they would shrivel up and burn away once the flames of my soul get back to their healthy state and shiver at the possibility that they will not.

But this is not the time for it. If there is a way to remove the blight upon my soul, I will have to find it – and before that I need to grab hold of my body. I search out the connection between my mind and body – slowly at first, but more franticly as the first search yields nothing. There is no way for a mind to survive without the body…

Am I already dead then?

Suddenly – with all the force of a lightning bolt searing its way through the skies, the connection between my mind and my body snaps back and everything that it feels slams into me.

The sudden influx from it draws me out of the sea of souls and completely obliterates the remainder of the vile cloud that has been my prison for what feels like forever, leaving only the deep rooted tendrils surrounding my soul and the tattered existence of my mind as testaments of my long captivity.

I can no longer perceive the eternal freedom of the mind as my consciousness slams into my body and I take my first breaths [again…] with the lungs of my mortal body.

I can _feel_ it again – feel the wind caressing my nose and flowing around the wind sensors on my head – feel my wings and paws – feel my tail effortlessly guiding me through the air with instinctual movements of its two tail fins…

I do not know how it is possible to miss something that I do not remember experiencing, and yet I do – something deep within my soul resonates with the exhilaration of flight.

I attempt to open my eyes so I can see where I am, and notice that they are already open – just extremely blurry.

A few quick blinks takes care of that and I gaze at the world for the first time in my life –

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* * *

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The beam of light striking me into my eyes for the first time through the cracked shell that defines my world… The feelings of encouragement and happiness within the soft crooning entering into my world through its boundaries – suddenly the world around me, so safe and cozy is suddenly so constricting – I push at its boundaries with renewed vigor… The two dragons looking at me with concern as I stumble out of what has been my entire _everything _for my still short life… A feeling of terror as I look around the new world that seems infinitely bigger than what I am used to… Sharing a gaze with the closest dragon while a feeling of safety passes through me and making me forget any terror that I may have felt earlier. A single thought passes through my mind – _mother…_

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* * *

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The memory comes unbidden from the dark recesses of my shattered mind and I feel a sense of hope when I realize that perhaps my memories have not been completely lost – perhaps I may regain some as my mind heals…

For now though, I focus on checking over my body and taking in the situation into which I have awoken.

The darkness of the night brought with it a sense of peace for me – unlike the other dragon kinds which are blessed by the goddess of the sun and live under her shining gaze, _OiraRae_ like myself are considered the hatchlings of the goddess of the moon, making the night with the moon's gentle shine upon us our home. We can live in the light of day, but we can only truly thrive under the moonlit skies. We are the only nocturnal dragons, and we are proud that the goddess of the moon chose us for that honor.

From my eyes and the twin sets of wind sensors along the back of my head I realize that I am flying through the air at roughly my normal speed – nowhere close to how fast I can really go. Not exactly the best place to wake up, but I can tell that I have at least a few seconds before my flight path becomes dangerous. Certainly it is fortunate that the perception of time slows down for us when we fly – quite handy for those truly tricky flights.

Still – I should land before doing anything else – never a good idea to fly in the condition my mind is in – after all even now I am barely hanging on to my consciousness and preventing myself from falling into a deep sleep to heal my mind's wounds.

I open up my wings and a piercing pain passes through me from them. _They will not open!_

Franticly twisting my head around my blood freezes and an unbidden moan passes through my throat as I realise that some strange things have been coiled abound my body which have effectively tied my wings and paws tightly to my chest.

How fitting then – mind and body, both tied up by vines… _No~!_

_Goddesses no – this can't be happening!_ How could I have possibly been tied up when I am mid-flight!?

And then the all-consuming terror as I realize the situation I am in.

I don't know how many Cycles I have lived out already – My muscled body has long since reached its adult size and I must have left my parents behind many Cycles ago – but that does not matter as I call out in desperation while at the same time releasing all my terror in a shrill scream, even as I helplessly watch the treetops approaching me from below.

_::Mom! Help! … Please!::_

There is no response – and only moments later my entire body burns in pain and I hope for it to just end – _What have I done to deserve this…_ – The feeling of exhilaration at finding myself in control of my body has long since fled. Even the terror that was oh so prevalent when I realized my situation no longer has any place in my mind – all of my existence has been consumed by pain.

I try to flee from my broken body into the sea of souls to escape this pain – but I can't even bring up enough concentration to do that and am instead forced to experience everything that my body suffers without any buffers in between.

The pain! – _Oh goddess of the night, let this end – the empress of the moon take me into your calm embrace… Please let this end!_

Perhaps she did, for only moments later I passed out and the blissful darkness swallowed me whole.

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* * *

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The sounds of birds and the gentle flutter of leaves is the first thing my muddled mind experiences as I wake up.

Next the aches and pains of my body hit me and I involuntarily growl. _What have I been doing to end up in this situation?_

My mind is still barely halfway conscious and no memories spring up to explain where I am. Nothing to it then – opening my eyes I take in my surroundings.

My ears have not deceived me for I find myself surrounded by trees in a small clearing within a forest. The rays of an early morning sun shine through the trees and into the fog rolling along the ground – it is not dense enough to block my view, and instead provides volume to the rays of light, giving the scene an almost idealistically peaceful quality.

What a sharp contrast to my current state of existence…

Trying to stand up only results in more pain as my entire body groans in protest, my paws being the most vocal. Something about that strikes me as odd – I seem to remember that my wings were hurting the most along with a piercing pain from my tail.

Trying to move around to check on myself I only manage to turn my head and notice the vine like things that have bound my body. _No wonder I can't move my paws…_

Visually I check on my wings to the extent that I can while still bound, and a feeling of relief passes through me as I find the left one unharmed – if you do not take into account the vines that have coiled around it or the awkward position it was in, or the minor tears in its membrane – easy enough to heal with enough time. Trying to position it better against my chest fails spectacularly as the vines hinder any movement, but there was no sharp pains from it – whatever wounds I have gained during the crash were not enough to threaten my life, meaning that I could focus on them after getting out of these vines and fining a better place to rest.

From what I can tell my right wing is stuck under my body – quite uncomfortable, but except for some dull aches it also seems to be in… _I wouldn't say good, but I guess (hope) acceptable condition._

Unfortunately the vines prevent me from moving around and I cannot get a glimpse of my tail. From the dull aches I feel from it I assume that it is in an ok condition as well and focus instead on trying to figure out how I got here…

The last thing I remember is waking up from the darkness, quickly followed by exhilaration. Then there is nothing but terror and pain before I passed out into the blessed darkness again.

Strangely enough that was all that I could remember.

Well, let's start from the basics.

I am a dragon – an eternal wanderer obviously.

My name is…

My eyes widened as I realized that I did not know who I was.

_Calm down_ – just try to remember anything before waking up in the air – there must be something…

I shiver as I remember the cocoon of darkness that bound me for what felt like forever, and the sorry state of my mind when I first looked at it when the dark mist dispersed, leaving behind only the tendrils of darkness upon my mind.

_Tendrils?_

Oh – right… Those tendrils. Slowing down my breathing I enter the sea of souls and take in the state of my mind. _Well I can see some definite improvement – the color is finally blue, not yet the sky blue it should be, darker, but infinitely better than red. Still much too small from what it should be…_

The tendrils of darkness are also still there – unchanged from the first time I have seen them. It was a futile hope after all to think that they would disperse or burn away within the flames of my mind - perhaps they are forevermore my stigma to carry – the taint upon my soul.

I shudder at that thought – of the three things that are meant to always _belong_ to me, two have been taken from me for an indeterminate amount of time. My soul would have probably been as well, if the cursed darkness could have managed it. I cannot imagine any being capable of encroaching upon a person's mind, body, and soul – an action even more vile than taking another's food… something that I cannot imagine doing even if I was to die of hunger otherwise.

My mind, defiled until it was barely a shadow of its former self, and my memories shredded so far as to become inaccessible…

Still, I could do nothing but move forward, the past is always to remain in the past. Speaking of which, I had to do something about my tattered memories – and considering that my body is tied up outside with no chance of escape considering its weakened state, what better time than now? After all it will take at least another sun cycle for my mind to heal enough to be able to exert its influence on my body and allow me to strengthen my muscles enough to break free of the vines binding me…

I search within my mind for the sphere of memories around my soul and wince at seeing their condition once more.

My memories are in a sorry state – unlike the rest of my mind they have not healed during my forced rest. Instead they are just as they were when I first woke up – shredded pieces barely hanging on to the obsidian surface of my soul between the vile vines of darkness surrounding it. Not that I expected them to heal – I had the knowledge that they wouldn't from some part of my shattered memories.

Just as I had the knowledge of what I needed to do to fix it.

It was simple really – all I had to do was reconnect all of my memories back to my soul, stitching up the fabric that they composed back into the single spherical weave around my core. Unfortunately it could be attempted only once – as if I stopped in the middle then all the memories I had not connected would dissipate and be lost forever. Even worse – to reconnect each memory meant that I would have to relive it – effectively meaning that I would be forced to relive my entire life.

Whether that was a blessing or a curse remained to be seen.

Well, I would have to do it sometime – and perhaps within my regained knowledge there would be something to help me out of this mess I found myself in.

So without another thought I dive inwards to experience my life from the beginning.

And so, once again my perception is swallowed in darkness…

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* * *

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The entire world for me is composed of the darkness within which I exist, the hard edge of the world surrounding me, and the comfortable heat in which I float. There is no distinction between my mind and my body – for my world is the same in both planes of existence; synchronised so perfectly that I experience them both at the same time in a sense of oneness that simply cannot be described.

I do not remember any time when my world was anything but this – but ever since I came to acknowledge my existence the boundary of my world started shrinking in upon me. My wings / flame scrape at the boundaries as I realize that the world is too small to hold me – I_s it my fate to be smothered in this world that has been everything I knew?_

A crack appears along the spherical boundary of my world, then another.

_Perhaps not._

The beam of light striking me into my eyes for the first time through the cracked shell of my world causes me to instinctually clench my eyes and my perception suddenly splits into two.

I can feel my eyes burning from encountering something besides darkness, and at the same time I can feel the shell around my mind dissolve as my flame expands outwards, eating away at the boundaries that had surrounded me for what felt like eternity. I gasp in wonder at the sense of _freedom_ that passes through me as my mind glimpses at the boundless world of souls around it – the blinding whiteness of the kingdom of the sun goddess above, and the chaotic darkness of the abyss where the moon goddess resides below. The knowledge is innate for me – just as I know that the soft bluish flame that surrounds me – is me – is my mind.

Then my body calls out to me, and I respond – instinctually following the unseen thread that ties my mind and body out of the world of souls. I slowly open my eyes again and here the light does not burn. That was when my aching body informs me of how uncomfortable the position I had to take as the shell shrunk – _Or have I grown _– really is. I try to move around, but the boundary of my world is so restricting!

I pause as the shell vibrates, bringing with it sounds from the _outside_. The feelings of encouragement and happiness within the soft crooning that enters in through the hard boundaries of my world flow into me and seem to vibrate within my mind – suddenly the world around me, so safe and cosy just a few moments ago, is so constricting…

I push at the boundaries with renewed vigor – I simply have to get to whatever is making that sound!

Another crack appears, and then a few moments later yet another one. My mind nearly bursts from euphoria as the boundary crumbles and I fall out of my world – O_utside…_

My vision is blurry, but slowly adjusts as terror grips at me – everything is so _far_ … The new world is simply too big… I try to get back into the safety of my shell, but stumble instead. Moving my body for the first time is not as easy as it seemed when I was curled up within my world…

Franticly looking around to try and spot the entrance from which I came into this world and _somehow_ get back, I spot the source of that sound – two dragons, incomparably big to my eyes. Looking up – and up again – my gaze settles on one of the eyes of the closest one… Who was also looking at me.

_::Mom::_

A feeling of safety passes through me and makes me forget any terror that I may have felt earlier. The crooning has not stopped, and even now my body vibrates in tune with it, filling me with a strange calm and a sense of _belonging_. Through her eyes I can sense her love for me, and I _reach out_ to her – both in this world and within the sea of souls.

She moves closer, and our snouts touch. At the same moment I also feel a soft heat emanating from a nearby flame – _my mom's mind_ – I realize. Her flames surround and embrace me, and I know that there is nothing to fear – for she will protect me.

I fall asleep for the first time within this gentle embrace.

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* * *

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Memories flash before my eyes as I experience them all while at the same time remembering them from memory – a very strange and surreal feeling to say the least. The memories flow past me so fast that it would seem impossible for me to get more than a glimpse at the life before they pass me by, and yet no matter how fast they go as they reform their intricate pattern around my soul, I experience them all in completely perfect detail – to me it feels as if I am living through them again; which in a way, I am.

I remember my day two sun cycles after birth as I stumbled around and attempted to get familiar with my body enough to be able to walk properly as my parents encouraged me with that constant song – for it is not just the sound of their crooning, it also carried within it all of their feelings of pride and hope towards me…

I remember running and jumping around the cave that is our home – only half a moon cycle has passed since my hatching and yet already I have near perfect control of all the muscles of my body! In my euphoric mood I fail to place my front paws correctly and stumble down, flipping over on my nose to land painfully on the wings on my back… The concerned cries of my mother as she withdraws the pain from my mind and carefully proceeds to heal my body – something that she says I will be able to do by myself once my mind is strong enough. Then the familiar screech pierces the air as my sire dives into the cave ready to protect his family – he had returned the moment he felt my pain and my mother's worry…

I remember both my parents coiled protectively around me as they embrace me both in reality and in the world of souls…

I remember waking up with pitiful cries after a strange nightmare to the concerned faces of my parents - listening to their soothing song as they explain that there is nothing to fear; the nightmares happen to all newborn dragons, they explain, possibly a shard of memories from my previous life that remained with my soul after its rebirth…

I remember the feeling of power flowing through my muscles as my sire directs his mind to enforce them – being told to never try and repeat this without him there to guide me through it…

I remember the rapidly escalating terror as my sire picked me up with his claws and flew several miles above the tallest peak of my island that we inhabited, the air so thin there that it was difficult to breathe. That single moment of weightlessness and dawning horror as he released me and as I plummeted towards the unforgiving rocks below… The instinctual opening of my wings and hearing the shrill scream as my half open wings changed my wild fall into a controlled dive… Then euphoria replaced terror as my wings opened completely and the dive changed into a steady flight. More of a controlled glide than true flight, but that hardly mattered.

There truly is nothing to compare that glowing contentment that a dragon feels when he is in the air to; there is just something truly wonderful and indescribable about the first flight…

And so the first Cycle passes as I experience myself growing up for a second time in my life. The happiness at controlling my body enough to walk; to run; to fly…

…And the pains that came with the initial failures or simply with stupid mistakes. I remember my first crash on the rocky slope on the sunset side of my island, and how my parents guided me through healing myself after it – and later hearing stories about their own crashes, for as they explained to me – a dragon crashes only once in their lives, for that one crash cuts down our gloated pride enough to become cautious and respectful of the boundless sky in which we fly – and that allows us to truly become masters of the air.

I experienced my first winter when I was kept inside the cave without ever leaving, and listening instead to the teachings they imposed upon me, forcing me to train my mind to feel the other minds around, to both connect with them, and to block them out. The seemingly endless history lessons where I learned all about the _OiraRae_ or the Eternal Wanderers as we are called in the human language – given this name to represent our spirits within which lurks the unstoppable _wanderlust_ that forces us to leave our home every few Cycles and find a new place to live. The same _wanderlust_ that separates us from other dragon kin – for unlike them, we _OiraRae_ do not form clans or communities; or even a permanent home.

I remember my parents teaching me the language of dragons that we all speak, as well as several dialects of humans – for with them being incapable of speaking directly with their minds, the humans have developed methods of communication based on sounds – and it was always a good idea to be able to at least understand the only other soul based beings in this world.

I relive my first painful attempts at augmenting my body through my mind to allow it to become faster and stronger – only succeeding in ripping my muscles and ligaments instead. For the first time in my life my parents did not protect me from the pain – as that was to be my punishment for disregarding their warnings and not waiting for their guidance before this attempt. That was not my first encounter with pain – but for the first time I had to experience it for longer than the few seconds before my parents shielded me…

It was a long night for me as they guided me through healing my wounded body while at the same time watching my attempts – and more often than not failures at holding the pain at bay.

I never controlled my body with my mind this way without their guidance after that.

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* * *

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My second Cycle went by the same way as the first – in a blink of an eye that seemed to last an eternity.

By that time I had already grown to half the size of an adult and my parents started leaving me to fend for myself – for I was rapidly leaving my Hatchling Cycles behind. Already all the healing and strengthening of my body was done without their help; and any mistakes were quickly followed by a sleepless day full of pain and promises to myself to be more careful next time.

I relive the first time I was left alone – my first day under the gaze of the goddess of the sun without my parents' protection and love.

I feel the same terror and fear that I felt that day – it was impossible to sleep, and I spent the entire day curled tightly into myself – both in body and mind. By the time the goddess of the night graced me with its presence, I was too numb to care. The joy I had when I saw my parents again was indescribable, for I had by then long since lost any hope of surviving to see them again.

It felt like the longest day of my life, but it was only the beginning of my trials.

More lonely days followed, as did a gradual increase in their expectations of me.

I remember having to hunt and fish for my own food. The first few attempts with my sire guiding me; but soon I was expected to hunt without him. The shock when I came in empty the first time and attempted to get at the pile of fish my parents caught – only for them to gently push me away.

It wasn't gentle the next time I tried to get at their food again, and that was when I started thinking of food in terms of mine and theirs instead of ours as it was.

I understood all too well what this gesture meant, and the realization of it pained me more than the bruises I received upon being pushed away.

Food is one of the very few things that can be said to _belong_ to someone – the sky, the waters, the endless forests of the world; all these do not belong to anyone. Besides one's mind, body and soul, it is only food and hunting grounds that are labeled as _belonging _to someone – be it a single dragon, a tribe, or even their human analogs. Even caves and nests are only granted such distinctions at times of hatching. We may call things ours, but in all other cases it is but a term of endearment – much the way I consider my mother and sire as mine.

The second winter was more difficult still – for I was not allowed to stay in what I had come to call home and instead was forced to rest in another cave that my sire made for me, as well as braving the horrible snowstorms outside to hunt for food. Dragons can survive in any temperatures, from the coldest nights of winter to the scorching hearts of forest fires – even smoke is only a minor annoyance to us. No, it was the lack of vision and ease of stumbling to your death during snowstorms, combined with the inability to safely fly in such conditions that made snowstorms so dangerous. Worse still, I was not good at hunting and very often had to risk going out in the hopes of better luck – even in such horrible conditions as snowstorms and blizzards.

I was certain that if I was near death my parents would come and help me, but that did nothing to fill up my stomach when I often times had to go for days without food.

I remember frustration and uneasiness at failing to catch anything in the deadly seas around our island, or in the snow buried forests on it. And the feeling of triumph at getting even a single fish – for some days that was all that I had.

By the time winter had finished and my second Cycle had ended, it had been several moon cycles since I had last seen my parents. Finally I could take it no longer and went out to search for them.

I relive the dismay I felt as I found their cave empty and snowed in; the increasing feeling of distress as day after day yielded no results.

Four sun cycles later I gave up and accepted what my mind had already known but my heart refused to believe.

It must have happened sometime during the few clear days of the winter – possibly while I stayed in my cave while waiting for night to arrive so I could attempt to hunt and fish for food to fill my empty stomach.

They have left.

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* * *

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It was then that I knew that my Hatchling Cycles have come to an end.

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* * *

**A/N**

That's all for now. The next chapter is short since it covers Toothless's life from the end of his childhood until he arrives at Berk, so I will publish it along with the chapter after that. If you are excited to be getting two chapters, please review so I know how well (or bad…) I am currently doing. While I highly doubt I will change the storyline based on anything said in the reviews (difficult to do considering part of the second book / 2nd cycle is already written and just waiting for me to get to that point), I would like to know what you find interesting / boring – good / bad. Personally I find that I tend to stretch scenes out longer than I expect them to be, but any time I re-read the chapters and edit them the chapter length just grows. So tell me if you think there is too much / too little detail in the story and I will see if I can oblige.

While we are on that topic – thank you to those that took the time to review this story!

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Finally, perhaps you noticed that I used a different 'name' for the race of Nightfuries instead of 'Nightfury'. For each of the six types of dragons (Nightfury, monstrous nightmare, hideous zippleback, deadly nadder, Gronckle, and terrible terror) I will use three names: the standard one that the Vikings use (which will be how they are called in all 3rd person POV / human sections), the 'draconic' name (such as _OiraRae_ for Nightfuries), and the 'human translation' of the draconic name (such as 'Eternal Wonderer' for Nightfuries).

Both types of draconic names will be used for 1st person POV / dragon sections of the book. I do not however quite expect you to memorize the table of names (as that would be stupid), and thus will always try and put in recognizable details that would point out the dragon type I am writing about even if you do not know who the draconic name relates to:

So for example (taken from the next few chapters):

Down below I could see one of the _RunaEfai_ spitting its liquid fire at a group of humans who were blocking it with pieces of wood as they attempted to get out of the way. At either side of the _RunaEfai_ a _MaegNur_ stood with their tail quills out.

As you can hopefully see from that, _RunaEfai_ translates to monstrous Nightmares and _MaegNur_ stands for deadly Nadders. Besides which, with the drastically different ways the dragons act it should not be too difficult to understand what type of dragon you are dealing with.

Wow – that was a long a/n wasn't it? Almost 10% of the entire chapter…

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Saienai Signing off.


	7. 1st-6: Wishes of a Lonely Soul

**~Ouroboros~**

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**1****st**** - 6. Wish of a Lonely Soul**

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.

The memories started to speed up, not that I noticed that. The memories were… _heavier… _if you could call them that. My mind was slowly darkening, unused as it was to working at this pace, but I did not pay any attention to it – Couldn't, for I was stuck in the flow of my memories.

I remembered the feelings of anguish that slowly grew over those two sun cycles as my frenzied attempts to find my parents somewhere on my island yielded no results. I had expected them to leave – for even within my own mind the seeds of _wanderlust_ have already started to sprout – but this was too sudden! I simply could not believe that they had left without seeing me one last time!

Without at least a final goodbye…

Why?

Why would they do this to me?

Didn't I mean anything to them!?

Were all those feelings of love, acceptance, and pride; those feelings of contentment when we fell asleep curled around each other as a family – nothing but a false vision?

Was I really just a duty for them to complete, and then leave behind without a second glance!?

I had unknowingly switched to a human dialect in my mind – for while the draconic mind language relies on growls and body language to pass on feelings and emotions as the mind passes on memories and experiences, the human dialects meshing feelings and experiences together were not thus constricted. During the entire time I searched for them I expressed myself in the colorful language of humans in the hopes of numbing my pain, of blunting the feelings of loss.

I remembered the two sun cycles that I spend sprawled on the floor of my cave and staring at the entrance – hoping beyond hope that they would come through that opening. At the end I had to leave – I simply could not ignore the pangs of hunger any longer.

After catching enough fish in the waters surrounding the island, I slept. In my mind it was no longer my island, just another one among countless others. When I woke up, I watched the sunset while eating enough fish to last me for the journey I knew I must take. Then I let the _wanderlust_ take me as I spread my wings and flew away, never looking back.

There was nothing left for me there.

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* * *

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For an entire sun cycle I glided over the immeasurable expanse of water below me – with no sign of land in any direction I cared to look.

From my memories I remember that I felt no fear throughout this voyage – I let my _wanderlust_ guide me, and it took me to my next destination.

It was under the soft glow of the goddess of the night that I compared my wings to the darkness surrounding me and learned my true name – Nightwing. The name brought shivers to me as it reverberated with my soul, and replaced the temporary birth name that my parents have always called me by.

I was no longer a hatchling, dependent on my mother and sire for survival – no, I was a young _OiraRae_ whose life was in my own claws. If I lived to see a single _moonfull_ of cycles I would be considered an adult, and after _f0r3_ more perhaps an elder.

And so my last link to my parents was broken as I, for the second time in my life, forgot my birth name.

On the second sun cycle of my flight, as the sun rose from the waters to my left in a beautiful collaboration of colors, I spotted land. This was to be my next step on this journey called life.

I would have collapsed upon arrival if some instinct did not make me hunt for food. Several cod later I circled the island I found myself on and spotted a cave in one of the cliffs along its side.

I have found my new home.

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* * *

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Even as I flew through the stream of memories that seemed to threaten to consume me – or perhaps push me out of the flow and prevent me from ever regaining them – I could feel my strength rapidly ebbing away. By now I had already regained enough memories to realise the momentous stupidity of attempting this with my mind's flame at barely half its normal size – I simply did not have enough strength to see the procedure through to its completion…

My flame had now shrunk to one third of its full size, and I knew that I could only hold on for two or three more Cycles before my mind shut itself down into a deep sleep. Since my recent check of my body told me that I was already at full length, I knew that I had experienced at least ten Cycles of growth…

For a brief moment I lamented my rash decision – I could have at least slept until sunset and dived into my memories at night under the guidance of the goddess of the moon – when, being mostly nocturnal as part of the OiraRae race, I felt most awake…

Still, there was nothing I could do about that. I could only try and persevere for as long as I could and hope that I would not lose too many of my memories by the time I was forced to shut down.

I refocused on the life I had already lived – and was now living again.

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* * *

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My second stop on my wanderlust fueled journey was upon this island; which was somewhat similar in size to the one I was born on.

I remember flying over it and finding it to be several miles across and filled with lush greenery, pierced in the middle by a fire mountain that had long ago passed through its final flames. This was already my third Cycle, but it was the first Cycle that I would have to face alone.

Truly alone.

It was quite uncommon for there to not be at least one dragon roosting on such islands – but in yet another similarity with my birth island this one was not inhabited by either dragon or human clans.

The summer moon cycles passed by almost as quickly in my memories as the memories did themselves. Life itself settled down into a monotonous cycle of hunting, eating, sleeping, and flying. During those stale moments when I lay within my cave waiting for night to come around so I could hunt and simply did not feel like going outside to fly, I practiced with my mind skills. Already I was capable of strengthening my muscles and bones with almost no conscious effort – a necessary skill to know to be able to complete those high speed screeching dives that I found so intoxicatingly enrapturing. It was also during that summer that I learned to focus my mind enough to allow myself to think faster – effectively slowing down my perception of time and thus increasing my reflexes.

And so, almost without me noticing the passage of time, my third summer ended and the first true snowstorm covered the island with a white blanket that would only be removed when summer came around again.

I had the fortune to experience the third winter of my life on this island – as thankfully the winter storms seemed to pass it by, and there seemed to be plenty of animal life in the forest and plenty of fish in the ocean surrounding the island; meaning that I did not have to go without food nearly as many times as I did during my second winter.

It also helped that I was steadily getting better at hunting.

When my fourth summer arrived I was surprised to notice that I had not lost weight as I had during my second winter, and as I have been taught to expect to happen from the natural decrease in available food. As it was, I did not have to spend nearly as much time rebuilding my muscles after winter as I did when I first arrived on this island – that time the weight lost during my first winter fending for myself was further compounded by the two sun cycles spent traveling between islands, leaving me with a woefully weak body.

With the end of the last true blizzard of winter my life once again fell into an unchanging cycle of hunting, eating, sleeping, and flying. Once again catching prey became simpler and the number of free hours increased enough to decrease their value from 'precious few to not be wasted' into the 'way too many to know what to do with' range.

Unsurprisingly I filled those hours with more meditation to practice my current mental abilities, and to learn new ones.

It truly took all of my willpower not to end the flow of memories right then and there – not just from the exhaustion I felt, but also due to the double dose of boredom from living through these memories a second time and remembering them as I relived them. Still, I would brave far worse than this for my memories – and likely would have to for the next few minutes / Cycles.

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* * *

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It was only a single moon cycle before the snow storms returned that I perfected my aim with my plasma bolts. From what I knew of the other dragon races, my kin was unique among them for not having a set limit to the number of shots – but we paid for that with many Cycles worth of grueling training to increase our accuracy, speed of fire, strength of the explosion, and stamina.

The results though, were definitely worth it – sure, I was still nowhere close to the accuracy and range that _MaegNur_ managed to reach with their quills if they took the time to aim properly; but without mental enhancement I have already surpassed the destructiveness of the fire blasts of all the other races.

Naturally I knew that with the stunning proficiency that the elder dragons have in mental abilities, my plasma bolts were more like the little flames of the _AiRei_ in comparison – when I was forced to leave my home for the first time, my sire had literally burned a new cave for me with his fire – completely incinerating the solid rock that made up that part of the cliff's face.

Still, I was content with myself – I knew I had uncountable Cycles ahead of me to perfect my mental abilities to my sire's levels; at the very least my body was now in prime condition and would remain that way until my descent into the _Abyss_ if I took diligent care of it.

And on that high note I entered my fourth winter. It was mild considering what I had experienced on my birth island, but still worse than my last winter on this island. It was in the middle of the winter that I started to feel _wanderlust_ gnawing in the back of my mind again. I knew that it would be near suicide to leave the island in the middle of the winter for someone as inexperienced as me –

_Unlike my parents…_

That thought sent a pang of pain and a wave of depression through me – I had tried not to think too much about them ever since I found out that they had left me… I shook off these thoughts and focused instead on burying my _wanderlust_ and ignoring it until the end of winter – if I could hold off that long then the next flight of my journey would be much easier.

_Wanderlust_ truly sets us apart from the other dragon races – for unlike the others who only have to worry about insanity setting in from _skylust_ if they have been away from the skies for too long (or worse, know that they can never return to them again), me and the other _OiraRae_ also have to worry about becoming insane from fighting against our instincts to move on. In either case fighting too long would result in a birth of a _NaaiNe_.

It is because of our wanderlust that we are considered the hermits of the dragon races – for it is impossible to stay in a group when you could begin to feel the need to _move_ at any time – it may be Cycles upon Cycles before you feel it; or it could come back within a single moon cycle of your arrival.

It was just my bad luck that my sense of _wanderlust_ came almost two full Cycles after my arrival at this island – during the heart of winter.

Fortunately my hunting skills were up to scratch and I made it through the winter while maintaining most of my body weight even with the steadily increasing impatience and mood swings that came with ignoring _wanderlust_ for too long – I would have made a piss poor companion if I had someone to share this existence with, but fortunately I was alone and no one had to live with my increasingly foul mood.

Well, no one but me – and it nearly drove me insane.

By the time winter ended with the melting of the last piles of snow, I was barely capable of sleeping from the jitters passing through my mind and body – it was truly a wonder that I was still sane enough to go fishing one last time before setting off, even more so that I actually managed to catch any fish in the state of mind I was in.

I didn't even bother sleeping before I spread my wings and took off – It wouldn't have been possible in any case with the knowledge that I would be leaving the next day – I was too high strung, and my mind too close to shattering.

The moment I was in the air again and heading away from the island that had been my home for two Cycles, I felt relief wash over me – washing away all the anxiety brought about by the _wanderlust_; leaving behind only a deep sense of satisfaction. In a way I could compare it to taking a deep breath of much needed air after swimming deep in the waters of the ocean for who knows how long – the breath coming just as you are about to drown.

Truly the sense of relief at that moment is indescribable.

As my wings took me to my next destination I reflected on the fact that throughout my entire stay on that island I have not once seen another dragon – either an Eternal Wanderer like me or any other kind.

I remember hoping that my next stop will have at least some dragons or humans – to relieve my boredom if for no other reason.

Unfortunately for me – my wish came true, for on my next stop there was an overabundance of both. Not that I knew that yet.

My next stop was the island of Berk.

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* * *

**A/N**

Short, I know.

I do like my chapters to be around the 4-6k range, but some like this one just have to be shorter and I don't feel like padding them up as that would detract from the story flow. Besides, the –

Wait! Don't go – I just wanted to say that the next chapter will be out –

SLAM

… Tomorrow…

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Thank you all who read / review / glance at my story.

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Saienai


	8. 1st-7: Journey of Fate

**~Ouroboros~**

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**1****st**** - 7. Journey of Fate**

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The strain on my mind was getting impossible to ignore. My flames were barely visible – having shrunk so much that I knew I had only a few seconds to go before they disappeared completely and my mind finally shut down.

Still, even a few seconds at the speed the memories were passing through me represented a few moon cycles of my life – a few cycles that I would fight claw and tooth to remember.

With newly strengthened will and renewed vigor I dove into what I knew to be the last few memories I would remember of my past life.

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* * *

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My flight to the third stopping point on my journey took three sun cycles, and by the end I was truly glad that I had managed to stave off my _wanderlust_ until the end of the winter, and had enough sanity left to at least eat before leaving – I highly doubted I would have made it otherwise. Even so, I had to push my body and mind close to their breaking point to succeed, with only the constant strengthening of my body keeping me in the air.

I remember arriving to the next island in the middle of the night and collapsing barely past the treeline on the shore into a deep sleep.

I awoke to the beautiful sight of a deep red sunset. I did not know how many sun cycles have passed while I was resting from my grueling flight and from countless sun cycles with barely a moment of sleep due to the _wanderlust_ before then, but from the near exhaustion I felt from my body it was likely at least two. It was quite fortunate that no one around tried to eat me while I was out – I would have awoken and taken care of that, but waking up to blinding pain and realizing that someone was taking a bite out of you is quite far down my list of 'best sights to wake up to'.

Being eaten in general is quite far down my list of things to try during my lifetime.

Speaking of eating…

I was suddenly aware of the sharp pangs of hunger emanating from my body. It was then that I realised that if I did not eat something before going to sleep again, I was quite unlikely to wake back up.

Attempting to stand up resulted in failure as I realized that it had likely been at least five sun cycles since I have last eaten – my body was simply too weak to move. I was in a bad situation and I knew it – but it was not unsalvageable.

Bracing myself for the pain I knew was to come I manipulated some of the muscles and other tissues within my body to break down even further to provide the energy required, and strengthened the rest of my body enough to allow it to move as if it was at its peak condition. The expected pain came and went as my body literally ate itself before being replaced by a dull throbbing, but I was used to this, having done so several times during my first winter as well as three times during my most recent journey just to name a few.

From the amount of fat, muscle, and other tissue that I allowed to be broken down into nourishment for the rest of my body I knew that I had at most half a sun cycle before my body was back to the same condition it was before I did anything – worse than that really, as it would have decreased muscle mass from my meddling to go along with the near zero levels of energy. Throughout my flight here I had quite literally ate my way through almost a fifth of my entire body weight, and was precariously close to a point of no return where not even an elder's mind would be of help – to speak nothing of my own.

Thus I only had half a sun cycle to catch some food – and fortunately for me, night had already arrived and I was ready to go hunting.

The first fly-by of the island I was on resulted in my discovery of a human settlement on one of the islets bordering the main island. I had arrived at almost the complete opposite shore to it and thus not noticed it when I had first approached the island.

Deciding not to antagonize the inhabitants I turned around and flew back – I was not sure how they would take me fishing in the waters close to their village, and it was just polite to meet with them before doing anything like that. Considering what I knew of humans I thought our meeting would start off on the wrong paw if I showed up in the middle of the night when they were asleep – better off to hunt far away from them for the first few days and observe them before initiating contact.

My mother would be proud of me for remembering proper etiquette and following it even when I was nearly dying from hunger. I clamped down on my thoughts – it still hurt to think about _them_, even two Cycles after they had left…

Fortunately for me the waters surrounding the stretch of beach I landed on were plentiful in cod and I was able to catch enough to more than satisfy my hunger. The sun was just coming out of the waters when I flamed the ground in one of the clearings within the forest and fell asleep with a satisfyingly bloated stomach. Sleep was always easy to come by after a hearty meal and a comfortably warm recently flamed ground to lie on – especially in situations when the body needed to heal.

The next three moon cycles passed much the same way as I restored my body back to its peak condition – staving off wanderlust for as long as I did, combined with the grueling journey once I gave into it had eaten away at my muscles until all my bones stood out with enough clarity that I could literally count them in my reflection as I flew over the waters surrounding this island.

I had also relocated myself to a new home – a decently sized cove with a small lake (or perhaps a large pool would be a better description) taking up half of its area. It was surrounded by steep rocky sides and remarkably only one entrance – the narrow gap that must have been eroded away by the river flowing out of the lake and into the ocean. The gap was too narrow for me to get through it, and the sides far too steep for me to climb – but that also meant that any trespassers that tried to get to me would find it difficult.

I on the other paw, had the entire sky as my entrance and exit to and from the cove.

Truly there was no being better than a dragon – after all we were the peak predators of both land and sky, and were not too shabby at grabbing a bite to eat from the waters as well.

As for sleep – well, I found myself a deep indent in one of the cliffs that formed a somewhat shallow cave, especially with the way thick roots fell down from one of the trees below. I would have enlarged it and reinforced it with molten rock if I could, but was nowhere near capable of that and had to simply be satisfied with what I got.

All in all, I was starting to like this island much more than the last one - the shallow cave and the peaceful cove on this island were much better compared to the cave I used on the last island; and there was still that village of humans I had yet to meet to provide company.

If everything else went just as well as this past moon cycle had – I might even feel sad to leave this place. Somehow the tranquil peace of it had grown on me.

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* * *

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The flame of my mind was almost invisible, having lost just about all of its power. Realistically, I should have long since fallen into unconsciousness, but if I did, then I would lose any memories I had not yet seen. By now I was only holding on with my will alone, trying to scrape out even a fraction of a second more. It felt like I was attempting to fly through solid rock – completely impossible of course – and yet I did – for no matter the difficulties encountered, these were my memories I was struggling for.

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* * *

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It was roughly two moon cycles after my arrival that I chanced upon a strange scene.

The night before I was extremely lucky during my fishing trips and collected enough fish such that I did not have to go hunting this night. That did not mean that I was not in the sky – for flying is something that I love with all my heart and take great joy in – be it during fishing, hunting, or when flying for no other reason than to just to feel my wings pierce the air.

As it was, I was executing a nearly uncontrollable spinning dive with one of my wings firmly held against my chest while the other one was fully open when I heard angry human cries along with wordless roars of other dragons, frequently accentuated by fiery explosions coming from the village below. I was just as surprised by the sounds as I was to find that I was in fact almost directly over the village – I had lost track of my location due to the euphoria that had consumed me after the fourth steep dive.

I instinctively opened up my wings and slowed down to a steady glide to prevent me from crashing into one of those flaming towers below as I wondered what was going on. Nothing I had been taught or seen in my life had prepared me for the utter chaos I was now experiencing. Perhaps it was due to the insatiable curiosity that remained of my hatchling Cycles, or perhaps it was because I have never truly been in a fight for my life, but I could not stop myself from coming closer to better experience whatever was going on.

Hiding in the shadows I landed on one of the highest of those wooden nests the humans built and observed everything that was happening while remaining unnoticed by the participants down below.

To me it even looked fun – what with the yelling and setting things on fire. In a way it reminded me of those 'celebrations' that my mother told me about that some dragon tribes and even some humans participate in, to speak nothing of my own games as a hatchling when I used my then horribly aimed and pitifully weak fireballs to blast at my mother in an attempt to mark her as she slowly dodged around. I had always wanted back then to have other hatchlings to play with and felt a pang of sadness at being the only hatchling on the island – just another part of being an _OiraRae_.

I wasn't a hatchling any longer, but perhaps this once I could join in – some of the dragons around were definitely fully grown so I knew it wasn't a hatchling only affair.

Reaching a decision I fired one of my unique blue plasma bolts at the base of one of the giant flaming bowl-on-a-pole creations and watched it collapse. I had seen some of the other dragons attacking them, so obviously they were there for that reason.

The reaction was just about as good as I expected it. There was yelling, there were cries, and most importantly there was a giant flaming bowl rolling halfway through the village. If it was a contest of who got the most things on fire, then I was most definitely in the lead.

There was a yell from one of the humans close to the nest I was sitting on and something heavy crashed into one of the wooden extrusions along the top of the nest, completely smashing it to pieces. I roared down at them to be careful, and a second object destroyed another wooden plank.

I felt a sliver of worry as I wondered if I misunderstood something – perhaps I should have asked before joining in, but I didn't want to stop everything just to ask questions. Still, they should know better than to throw something capable of splintering a wooden plank almost as thick as a medium sized tree! With the still growing skills I had, a hit like that could very well cripple me!

By the time the third and fourth object flew at me, I had already taken off into the night to circle above the village to look for a dragon that I could talk to – preferably one that did not seem too caught up in the festivities.

It was during my low glide over the village that I spotted something I had not seen from my perch on the human nest – something that completely removed any thoughts of this being a weird celebration, while simultaneously freezing me inside.

There were dragon bodies lying around the village.

And by dragon bodies I meant DEAD dragon bodies – usually with copious amounts of blood or giant gashes in and around their bodies.

I felt panic settle in as I heard a scream from below – not the angry or focused one as I had heard before, but one that reflected sheer pain and terror of the one releasing it. With a sharp turn I was able to get a glimpse of what was going on and almost wished I hadn't.

It was the most horrifying thing I had ever experienced, and I knew that just like everything else it would be forever engraved in my memory. Down below I could see one of the _RunaEfai_ spitting its liquid fire at a group of humans who were blocking it with pieces of wood as they attempted to get out of the way. At either side of the _RunaEfai_ a _MaegNur_ stood with their tail quills out.

I let out a sorrowful croon filled with its own share of horror as I realised that the human that had made the scream that drew me to this scene was skewered on the quills of one of the _MaegNur_ – hanging limp on six quills that were jutting out perpendicular to her tail which was held still in the air. As I watched the _MaegNur_ slammed her tail at the wall next to her and released those quills – leaving the hopefully dead human nailed to the wall.

Hoping for someone's death – the death of an actual soul carrier… In any other situation I would have been horrified at my thoughts, and perhaps I was at that, but with everything else happening around me that feeling was lost much like a single drop of water in an ocean.

Another scream drew my attention and I was unable to look away as I watched one of the humans stumble down and be covered in the liquid flames of the _RunaEfai_. It wasn't until the poor soul finished screaming and I heard a painful draconic roar that I managed to tear my eyes from the still burning remains of the human.

I had by that point felt that nothing could shock me – the horror had long since turned my body numb in stunned disbelief – but I was wrong. My eyes widened as I realised that the human had managed to slam the heavy object (_hammer_, my mind provided from the memories of my mother's lessons) into the _RunaEfai_'s wings and shattered them – she would not fly again.

And then, along with yet another painful roar, I heard a thought.

_::Free… ::_

The thought pierced the air and I was started to realize that this was the first thought that I heard from all the dragons here – somehow with everything going on around me I never noticed the complete mental silence – the complete lack of thoughts within the sea of souls.

I had to respond; perhaps the _RunaEfai_ that was currently retreating from the human could tell me what was going on.

_::Hello? – Can you hear me?::_

For the first time in three Cycles I was attempting to talk to another being – and this time it was towards someone who was not my mother or sire. It was of little wonder that my thought came out weak. I had by that point almost stopped thinking in draconic, preferring human dialects after my parents left. Still, she had obviously heard me, since her head swirled away from the human to lock her eyes with mine, spotting me within the slowly brightening skies above.

_::An OiraRae! Barely a youngling as well by the looks of it! What are you doing here? – No, it does not matter – please, you must flee from here before-::_

I flinched as her thought was cut off abruptly – the human had taken advantage of her lack of attention and slammed his hammer directly into her head with such force that it completely caved in her skull.

_::fly youngling, get away before it's too late…::_ Her last thoughts pierced through the air towards me before her mind followed her body into death.

Oh goddesses please tell me what was going on!

It was quite pointless to try and speak with the humans – their minds were like shards of ice, sealed off from anyone else, and preventing us from communicating – resulting in any 'conversations' being more along the lines of gestures unless the village elder was capable enough to be able to pick up on mind-speak – at least that was what my sire taught me of human-dragon interactions. Besides which, they seemed more interested in killing dragons than talking!

Instead I thought it would be more beneficial to ask one of the other dragons about the situation instead.

There simply had to be a reasonable explanation for all of this…

_Slaughter – death – killing… Souls dropping down into the abyss and shedding the remains of the minds they held up like falling stars within the river of souls, human and dragon alike…_

Somehow I doubted I would understand the reason even if I was told it – to my young mind there was absolutely nothing that could make what I had seen acceptable.

By this point the sun was slowly starting to poke through the waters and almost as if on command the dragons lifted off – grabbing whatever food they could – and started to fly away from the village.

Enhancing my wings I shot towards the leading dragons and yelled out at them, letting off a roar to punctuate my mental message.

_::What is going on!::_

There was no answer to my thought – and I made sure to broadcast it with enough strength that the entire flight pack of dragons around me must have heard me.

They just did not reply…

_::Will someone just answer me!?::_

_::Hello-o could you at least twitch a wing or something so I know that you could hear me?::_

_::Hello…::_

Their responses to me were the same as before – absolute silence.

Perhaps if I just followed them to their nest then their clan's oldest elder – the _CoiraRei _of the clan would deign to answer my questions. After all, they couldn't just ignore me forever!

I was so angry at the surrounding dragons that I actually managed to fly several moments within the fog that had suddenly surrounded us all before I even noticed the sharp decrease in visibility. I flew closer to the other dragons so as not to lose them – and considering that they had dropped down to almost a foot's distance to the water and started swerving around the rock stacks, it took all of my concentration to maneuver.

How in the name of the goddesses did the other dragons maneuver in this fog? Even for me this was extremely difficult, and I was a natural born flyer!

By the abyss, how did they even know where they were flying!?

A sense of foreboding was gnawing at me – there was just a sense of wrongness in the air…

And then the fog cleared and I noticed a desolate fire mountain sticking out of the waters. The other dragons were flying into the various gargantuan caves that littered the rocky mountain sides.

We had arrived – and the sense of foreboding climbed to the 'get out of there now!' levels.

I flew into the caves.

Heck, I was a young, strong, male dragon in the prime of his life! – There was nothing I feared!

Besides which – I was still the best flyer out of all the dragons here; if I was ever in danger I could always just flee.

AFTER I saw what was in there…

_Youthful ignorance at its finest,_ I only now realized as I relived this again.

The caves all connected to the central chamber big enough to house the entire human village I had just left. It stretched upwards, cumulating in a giant rim at the top of the mountain – wide enough to allow several dragons to fly wing to wing through it. Looking down I saw a strange red fog that covered the entire base of the chamber.

Curiousness overcame me and I _reached_ out with my mind down into the depths of that fog – or more appropriately – the presence I felt down there. Judging from the feeling of power – so much so that I could even feel it within the real world – the _CoiraRei_ was likely to be there.

Perhaps he would answer some of my questions…

My cautious probe downwards was suddenly grabbed by something and by reflex I pulled back; or at least tried to.

With dawning horror I realized that the tendril of thought I sent out was caught – and what was worse, something was reaching out towards my mind along it.

Attempting to cut the connection did not work.

_What in the name of the twin goddesses is going on!?_

By instinct I angled myself to fly away through the rim of the mountain – I simply had to get away from here!

By now I was completely freaked out – nothing could have prepared me for any of this…

In my mind I was concentrating on the probe and spotted a kind of gooey dark fog slither along it towards me.

A disease… A tumor…

Whatever it was, I knew it was unnatural – the nauseating feeling it was releasing now that it had me in its grasp would have sent me on a blind flight as fast and as far away from it as I could go…

If only the vile thing would just release its hold!

I redoubled my efforts to cut the connection while at the same time pumping my wings with all their strength. Whatever that thing was, I knew that BAD would not be nearly enough to describe my situation if it caught me. Even though my mind and soul were caught in an unbreakable hold by whatever that darkness was, I tried to at least put some physical distance between it and my body.

No one had ever told me of anything like that within the sea of souls!

All of my attempts were futile, for only moments later the dark revolting substance surrounded the flame of my mind and started to corrode its way in. My wings seized up and I saw my body glide down to land on one of the rock shelves along the chamber's side.

Oh goddess of the night take me, I could no longer control my body!

_:: WELCOME YOUNG ONE – CONGRATULATIONS ON FINDING US. ::_

_:: YOU ARE NOW OURS… ::_

The thoughts reverberated inside my mind, their very tones sounding like two people speaking at the same time; but even that strangeness was dwarfed by the near tangent taint that made the very world around me feel corrupted. I had come here to have someone respond to me, and now I had gotten my wish granted. Oh the _RunaEfai_ was right – I should have fled from the village when I had first seen the fighting – flew away from here, away from that island!

I should have never followed the dragons here!

Goddess of the night – why! Why me!

_:: Oh goddesses – what have I done to deserve this!? :: _I yelled out with my last strength before the soothing/horrifying voice/thought crashed over me again.

_:: NOW NOW HATCHLING – DON'T YOU WORRY – DEATH IS NOT GOING TO BE YOUR FATE ::_

_:: AFTER ALL, YOU WILL BE QUITE USEFUL TO US… ::_

The response coming from the repulsive darkness surrounding me did nothing to quell my fears, and the duality of the voice only propelled me further into terror.

The fog around my mind suddenly pushed itself inwards, overpowering my mind and pushing tendrils of itself directly into my flame with all the grace of dull claws tearing away at the soft membranes of my wings.

I screamed wordlessly as the sheer pain inflicted upon my very mind overcame my capacity to think.

The pain – both the one I was feeling as I relived the moment, and the ethereal one I felt as I remembered it – was too much for me as the last dregs of my willpower fled from me and the remaining portion of my memories that I had not yet watched began unraveling and breaking away.

With my mind effectively shutting down and going into a deep sleep to replenish itself I had just enough time for a last bit of memory – but I did not recognise it as such, for within it there was nothing but darkness.

I did not even notice as the foul darkness of memory faded away into the true darkness of sleep – for there was precious little to distinguish between them; nor did I notice that the end of my memories caused my body to involuntarily spasm in the physical world, breaking open some of the wounds upon it and causing them to bleed.

Safe in the embrace of the dark and soothing wings of the goddess of the night, I knew no more.

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* * *

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Although Vikings had their own names for each species of dragon, it would be foolish to believe that the names were the same as those the dragons used themselves, after all without any way for the dragons to communicate with the Vikings, not to mention that all the dragons that the Vikings encountered were incapable of communicating even with each other – let alone the humans. Thus there was simply no way for the Vikings to pick up on the names the dragons used.

So it came to be that when the Vikings first encountered the dragons they came up with their own names for them. The _RunaEfai_, _AngaEcor_, _AiRei_, _AttaEcor_, and _MaegNur_; or flame-spirits, stone-hearts, little-ones, twin-hearts, and sharp-shooters as they could be called in human languages if the meaning of their names were directly translated and slightly shortened; were given Viking designations of Monstrous Nightmares, Gronckles, Terrible Terrors, Hideous Zipplebacks, and Deadly Nadders that made up the set of five common dragon types.

When during one of the dragon raids the Vikings saw a blue bolt of flame slam into one of the torches, completely incinerating the base and causing the chalice of fire to roll down half the village and into one of the houses; they knew that whatever did that was not a type of dragon their village has ever seen before.

It was Gobber who saw the dark shadow on the main hall from where the blue flame originated, and it was he who attempted to bring down what was obviously a rare dragon – both from the distinctively dark coating of its hide and the uniquely blue fireball it had shot. When after the first two throws yielded no results the dragon spread its midnight black wings and flew off into the sky to blend with it – disappearing as if it was never there in the first place, Gobber had only one thing on his mind.

"Night's Fury" Those standing around him heard him utter, and the term stuck.

Many hoped that the shade of the sky, aptly named the Nightfury, would not appear during one of the following dragon raids; but it was not to be. Ever since then a shadow dragon that flew too fast to be seen and blended in perfectly with the night sky was part of the dragon raids. It never attempted to steal any food and never showed itself to the Vikings.

Although the Vikings would vehemently deny it, their primal fear of the demon and its fireballs which were so different and more powerful than that of other dragons was clearly seen in their descriptions of it.

The demon summoned to earth and tasked only with bringing more Vikings into the embrace of Hel.

The unholy offspring of lightning and death itself.

The terror hidden within the darkness of a new moon.

The Nightfury.

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**A/N**

And that takes care of both Hiccup's and Toothless' backstories. Next chapter continues off where 1st – 4 left off, featuring the aftereffects of the dragon Raid.

For those wondering, I have a very 'unique' version of Red Death that I do not believe I have seen in any other fanfic (it needs to be to fit into the story). I will leave it to you to draw conclusions about it once it starts featuring more predominantly in the story.

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Saienai (signing off).


	9. 1st-8: Hiccup's Hiccups

**~Ouroboros~**

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**1****st**** - 8. Hiccup's Hiccups**

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_Well, that did not go according to plan…_ thought Hiccup as he sheepishly watched along with the other Vikings the dragons flying off with almost a tenth of the village's sheep tangled up in nets.

The same nets that only a few moments ago were keeping those same dragons pinned down and ready for slaughter.

"Ok, but I hit a Nightfury"

As Stoick grabbed Hiccup by the scruff of his neck and dragged him off towards Gobber who was currently standing around in stunned disbelief, Hiccup could not help but think that perhaps that was not the best thing to say at this point in time. Especially considering the damage he had just caused. _But seriously! All the destruction caused by that torch was nothing but an accident! Could have happened to anyone else who tried to hide from a god damn monstrous Nightmare behind the torch pole. I mean – if they wanted these things to not happen, perhaps they should have plated the pole with metal to prevent it from being incinerated?_ He stubbornly ignored the fact that they did – just nowhere nearly well enough to withstand a full blast of a Nightmare's flames.

Perhaps throwing himself at his father's feet and begging for forgiveness would have been a better alternative. Then again, being Vikings, that would not exactly help the situation anyway.

Nothing left then but to hope that his father would listen to him for once – after all he had just downed a Nightfury – that simply HAD to count for something.

Right?

Praying to any gods that could possibly be listening at this point in time – _There would be at least some; after all, the situation was funny in a cynical sort of way, and the gods probably love those_ – Hiccup tried to salvage the situation.

"But I really hit one dad – you guys were busy, and I saw it passing by after it shot down that tower. It was just in the perfect position, right between me and the moon – so I had a clear shot. It went down into the forests behind our village – if we can get a search party before it frees itself…"

"Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the Third – " Stoick's voice slowly ground out each of the words composing his son's name with such force that even the monstrous Nightmare tied up in a net behind them momentarily stopped its useless attempts at breaking out, to say nothing of the surrounding Vikings. Incidentally, it was also enough to quiet down Hiccup. Depositing his son in front of him Stoick ran a hand across his face in exasperation.

"Can't you see that every single time you step outside – disaster happens! Can't you see that I have more than enough problems without you adding on top of them? Winter is almost here and I have the entire village to feed to say nothing of the merchants that should be coming around for their yearly visit within a month or two at most!"

Hiccup felt a pang of guilt pass through him before it was swiftly replaced by indignation.

"Come on dad! Even you have to agree that this time it wasn't my fault! – Sure, there were times when I have caused some MINOR damages to the village… But in this case how could it have possibly been my fault that the damn monstrous Nightmare decided to flame the post holding up the torch!"

"You were hiding right behind it!"

"Well there wasn't much else to duck behind, what else was I supposed to have done!?"

"You were supposed to Stay – At – Gobber's! Not run off like a headless chicken just waiting to be gobbled up by a dragon at their convenience!"

"But then I would not have shot down the Ni-"

"STOP! – Please just stop with all those Nightfury fantasies! You know that you can never be a proper Viking, so at the very least try not to get in the way!"

Hiccup recoiled from his father, feeling as if he had just been slapped. Any response that he might have said died in his throat from his father's words. He had always thought that his father thought that way about him – heck, this wasn't the first time he even heard his father exclaim as much – but as always he felt a pang of betrayal at those words.

All he wanted was for some recognition from his father – something he had never gotten in his life – and even now, after actually succeeding for once, his father still did not accept him. Heck – his father thought he had lied about the Nightfury! Sure he had lied before – anyone who said they never lied was lying then and there; but he had never lied about anything this important!

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* * *

.

Stoick on the other hand was feeling exceptionally awkward. It seemed to him that any time he got into an argument with his son, they always ended the same way – with one of them sticking his foot into his mouth and the other one figuratively throwing up his hands in defeat. It truly galled him that he was usually the one who kept sticking his foot in his mouth after which his son always looked at him with that pained look with a tint of betrayal in his eyes.

Just as he was doing at this very moment…

It was obviously time to change the topic, so clearing his throat to get rid of the awkward silence and turning around to Gobber, Stoick continued. "Gobber – I told you to watch him!"

"Ye, and I told him to watch the forge while I went out – merciful Odin, I had almost fallen to my knees to beg him to just stay inside this one time."

"Couldn't you have just stayed with him this one time…"

"Come on Stoick – you know as well as I do that I am still one of the best Vikings you've got. I am still among the few capable of taking on multiple dragons at the same time without help – they needed me out there; the raid would have gone lot worse if I haven't"

"Can't quite see how much worse it could have gone, what with Hiccup's blunder… "

"Stoick…"

Stoick waved for his friend to be quiet and continued. He did know that Gobber was right about getting in the fight after all, and there was no point in taking out his exasperation on him.

"No, you're right – there aint a reason to argue – I know you did right to get out there. Even with Hiccup's 'help' we only lost some sheep and did not manage to kill as many dragons as we could have, while knowing you – you probably saved some of the younger Vikings from passing on before their time…"

The two of them didn't say anything else and silence reigned for a few seconds before being broken by Hiccup.

"Look dad – I know we don't have quite the kind of um… relationship between us as you might wish – but I am not lying about this! I really… did…"

Halfway through Hiccup's rant Stoick turned to face his son and glared at him with enough intensity to cause Hiccup to gradually shrink in on himself and trail off before he finished. By the end he could do little but stand in front of his father with his eyes downcast and his shoulders hanging down in defeat.

_Should have known that nothing I would say would get through to him – after all it never did, so why should that change now…_ Both father and son thought dejectedly.

With his son sufficiently cowered before him, Stoick pushed Hiccup towards Gobber who caught him with an outstretched hand – his other one nothing more than a splintered wooden handle after he had broken the attached hammer over the neck of a Nadder.

"Take him back home – and make sure he at least gets there without starting another fire or endangering half the village this time…"

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* * *

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_What a mess…_ _At least I can finally begin training the current batch of younglings – way past time for that, but we just haven't had luck the past two raids. Fortunate indeed that Stoick managed to capture one this time…_ Adjusting his helmet with its foot long horns, Gobber put his only hand across Hiccup's shoulders and gently patted one in an attempt at consoling him before pushing Hiccup in the direction of the chief's house. Behind them he could hear Stoick conversing with the remaining Vikings.

If Gobber knew his friend well – and he did – Stoick was likely asking for a damage report and ordering the others to put out the fires, drag the Nightmare off to be locked up in the kill-ring, put away the sheep, take care of the dead, dismember the dead dragons, and salvage what they could from the wreckage – probably in that order.

Focusing on the path they were walking Gobber barely prevented himself from groaning out loud, but could not stop himself from rolling his eyes. The other younglings have already gathered just off their path in front of them. If everything went the same way as it always did, their pitiful attempts at ridiculing Hiccup would begin right around now.

"Quite the performance" Tuffnut's words came first with his twin Ruffnut flashing up her two thumbs and a smile in agreement. They must really be reveling in the midst of Hiccup's accident, as the two skinny twins who were actually barely stronger than Hiccup (though a lot less disaster prone) were usually to be found baiting each other or downright tearing at each other's throats.

"I've never seen anyone mess up that badly – definitely better than your last one!" Snotlout was next, and to Gobber that comment perfectly summed him up – It was after all quite hard to come up with witty comments when you barely had enough brain cells to count to ten without resorting to using fingers. _At least the gods have gifted him with a strong body…_ And it was true – Snotlout was most definitely the most… sculptured… out of all the younglings.

"Thank you! Thank you – I was trying… So…"

And there was the expected sarcastic comment from Hiccup, although strangely enough it seemed more strained than usual, with the last word almost dripping with dejection – Gobber really hoped that Hiccup would not take this latest failure too hard, or at least not harder than usual. He had always considered Hiccup to be a good kid – just quite unlucky and a slight bit… overzealous… at his attempts to prove himself – quite a bad combination really.

The other two younglings with the group were just standing around and watching the proceedings. Fishlegs was just barely on the inside fringe of being accepted into their group, and even though he usually got along well with Hiccup, he just couldn't risk ostracising himself by defending Hiccup in these situations.

Truly, Fishlegs was very much like his father, from what Gobber remembered. Beeflegs was one of the 'wider' Vikings, but also one who would shy away from anything to do with killing – dragons included – and it looked like he had passed those characteristics to his son. If so, Fishlegs was more than likely to carry on his father's profession as a woodworker after gaining enough dragon kills to be considered a veteran, and do everything from chopping down trees to repairing or building homes burnt down during the raids. Out of all the non-killing professions within the village, smithing and woodworking were highly unlikely to ever stop being in high demand – what with the dragon raids and everything…

Gobber momentarily moved his eyes to the last youngling of the group – Astrid. To him, she was very much like a young Valhalarama – extremely talented, almost as strong as Snotlout (and really, out of all the Vikings, only Stoick was stronger when he was at that age), enough brains to plan out an attack instead of blindingly rushing forward, and last but most certainly not least was quite well endowed in the looks department. Although Val was never really that… high-n-mighty from what he could remember of her, and she would never participate in belittling any other younglings.

Astrid didn't participate either, but to Gobber it looked like her decision to stay out of it had more to do with wanting to look like she was too far above the rest to bother with making fun of those below her instead of out of any kind of feelings, respect, or even common courtesy towards Hiccup.

Gobber sighed and barely restrained himself from rubbing at his eyes in frustration. During days like this he truly hated those words the elder spoke about Hiccup's 'destiny' when he was born. _'This boy will never become a Viking…'_ – that more than anything truly smashed any chances he could have had for a normal childhood…

"Look on the bright side – you wanted to leave a mark, and now ya did! You can now sleep peacefully knowing that ye have actually managed to cause the same amount of destruction in one go as the Nightfury did when it first came to Berk. What with half the village in flames from that rolling fire chalice…"

"I keep telling you – it was an accident!"

"Sure it was – after all, even without yer help that Nightmare would have attacked the torches"

Hiccup turned slightly red in embracement.

"Well, maybe it would not have, but if I had stayed inside I would have never had a chance to shoot down that Nightfury!"

"Sure Hiccup"

_Here we go… At the very least it's less than a minutes' walk to the chief's house – hopefully not long enough for him to truly get going…_

"I mean I really did hit one."

"Of course you did"

"It's just that he never listens…"

"Runs in yer family – just look at you…"

Hiccup continued from where he left off without even noticing that Gobber was adding comments to his tirade. Whenever his apprentice really got going like this, the similarities between father and son became readily visible. Gobber could not even count the number of times he had been subjected to similar tirades from his old friend.

"… And when he does, it's always with that look in his face – you know; THAT one… He always looks at me like that… like I am a failure – a mistake… I mean just look at my name! Hiccup! And sometimes, that's exactly what I feel like… like I am nothing but a hitch his life, a problem for him to take care of… nothing but a hiccup"

Gobber was feeling slightly floored from the direction this conversation was heading. It was quite rare for Hiccup to open up like this – his apprentice would usually just burry all of his feelings of dejection and inadequacy behind a nigh impenetrable façade of cynicism. He was never really good with these situations – just like all Vikings his general answer to any emotional trauma was to 'buck up and wait for it to pass' – which was unsurprisingly inadequate to console others when they experienced a loss, or in this case bring Hiccup's mood back up.

Well, he had to at least try and hope for the best…

"Don't be too down about that Hiccup – I'm quite sure you aint the only one with whom Stoick uses 'that' voice with."

"Oh but of course! After all I can't be the only one causing situations WORTHY of bringing out THAT voice - Right? Although perhaps he would bring it out if the barmaid brought him milk instead of ale in that pint mug of his. Still, I am pretty sure I would have to be involved somehow… In fact I can just about hear him now – "

Gobber almost smiled as Hiccup dropped the pitch of his voice and did an exceptionally good imitation of his father. "Excuse me barmaid – I'm afraid you brought me the wrong offspring! I ordered…a…"

Hiccup's impression of his father slowed down as he froze on the spot barely a few feet in front of Gobber causing them to nearly crash. Frowning Gobber turned to look at what had caught his apprentice's attention.

There in front of them were the exceptionally well incinerated ruins of what was likely to have once been a Viking house. It looked as if a hideous Zippleback had breathed its entire load of flammable gas into the building and then ignited it. Judging from the complete destruction, it could have even been more than one. Even now the parts of it that had miraculously survived total incineration were slowly burning up into charcoal. If there was anything within the house that was important to either Stoick or Hiccup – they had better hope that it could be replaced, as the destruction was pretty much complete.

With his trained eyes Gobber tried to analyze what exactly caused such complete annihilation of what was once an exceptionally sturdy house. He immediately discarded monstrous Nightmares and deadly Nadders – their flames were primarily for burning things, not explosions. Terrible Terrors were thrown out soon after, as while they could cause such destruction, it would require such a large horde of them that he was sure that some Vikings would have noticed and remarked about it – heck it would require over several hundred of them to cause THIS much damage…

Leaving Hiccup to stand in shock in front of the ruins, Gobber approached to get a closer look. _Doesn't quite look like the work of Gronckles – it was more of an explosion than a concentrated barrage of flaming rocks. As to Zipplebacks… while possible, two or more of them would have had to use up all their gas before blowing it up, and the explosion would need to have occurred outside the house from the layout of the debris, whereas Zipplebacks prefer to pour gas inside the house before blowing it up instead…_

This naturally left only one culprit – the all forsaken Nightfury. From what Gobber knew, it was the only dragon capable of such destruction. By the looks of it the damn shadow dragon managed to shoot its blast into the side of the building, completely destroying almost half the house, while the remainder burned down naturally from the fiery of the explosion. If it was any consolation, Hiccup's room having been positioned in the back of the house seemed to have burned down from the flames instead of being destroyed completely from the explosion – so it was still possible that SOMETHING could be salvaged…

Turning back he looked at Hiccup's still form and saw the horrified disbelief still present in his apprentice's eyes. With a shake of his head he approached Hiccup and gently patted his cheek to bring him back to the present. When Hiccup flinched from his hand and turned to look at him, Gobber used the same hand to turn his apprentice around and started to walk away with Hiccup forced to follow due to Gobber's hand on his shoulders.

"Come on lad, don't let it get ye down. It happens to all of us – heck, my own forge has burned down no less than seven times – though I have to say that one of them was partially yer fault eh?"

Apparently he had chosen just the right words to bring Hiccup out of his depression from losing everything he kept in his room, since Hiccup's responded in his usual partly exasperated, partly cynical way.

"I keep telling you that was not my fault! Still, you're probably right. After all, it's not like I kept any of my irreplaceable journals there…"

"It happens lad – nothing you can do about it. At least ye kept most of yer recent journals with me in the forge. You can cradle them and softly speak of your undying love for them once we get there."

"Oh, ha ha – very funny. You know that is not what I meant – I put a lot of work into some of the stuff in them."

"I know lad, I know. Just don't let this keep you down."

There really was nothing more to say, so both of them just continued to walk down to Gobber's forge in silence. Hiccup was lost in his thoughts trying to list everything irreplaceable that he had lost with this latest stroke of bad luck while Gobber was in deep thought himself trying to imagine how Stoick would take the loss of his home. Gobber had decided the moment he saw the ruins to allow Hiccup and Stoick to stay with him in the rooms above the forge until a new house could be built – after all Hiccup already had a small room to himself there so he could keep his drawings and whatnot else, so all that was left was to make room for Stoick – probably clean out one of the stock rooms or just throw in another bed in an open space somewhere. _Heck, Stoick being… well, Stoick – he could possibly just fall asleep on the floor or leaning against the wall and still wake up as well rested as ever._ Long hunting or fishing expeditions did wonders to lower a person's need for comfort, but Stoick took it just a tad further than most.

Stuck deep in his thoughts, he proceeded to guide Hiccup through the streets towards his forge. His legs knew the way, having walked these streets since birth – and spilt both his own and draconic blood along them for nearly just as long.

Gobber had long since gotten used to this particular smell that was currently permeating the portion of the village they were passing through, so he simply dismissed it without a conscious thought and continued his musings. To Hiccup though, the strong metallic smell of blood along with the nauseating tint of burned flesh was enough to bring him out of his thoughts and cause him to look around.

They were just passing through the upper housing district where most Vikings lived, and from the looks of it this portion of it was hit the hardest during the attack. To his left were the remains of the house that was incinerated by the flame pillar he had seen from Gobber's forge, with the house next to it in a nigh unsalvageable condition as its lone standing wall – furthest from the center of the flame pillar – was still burning. Likely the two houses were too far from the rest to be considered a fire hazard and were just left to burn down. That was not where the smell of death was coming from though, and turning to his right Hiccup felt his teeth clench as he grimaced and attempted to hold down his stomach and all its contents that seemed to want nothing more than to come up his throat.

Noticing Hiccup stiffen under his arm Gobber finally came out of his musings and consciously noticed the smell that was prevalent around them. Looking over to his right he bit back a curse and forcefully turned Hiccup around to bury his apprentice's face in the side of his chest.

"Don't look"

But it was already too late for that – Hiccup's mind had already engraved in horrifying detail what he had seen into his memories.

They were currently in the middle of the main road running through the village with a smaller path branching off to their right. The buildings around were built far enough away from each other to stop fires from spreading, so the small path was still wide enough to provide an unrivaled view of the carnage on it.

There, no more than ten feet down the path, were the remains of a difficult battle. It was actually quite rare to find such a concentration of death – usually it was just single dragon or Viking bodies lying in their own blood around the village. The single large monstrous Nightmare was the closest dragon, and slightly surprisingly, the least mutilated one. It was sprawled on its side on the cobblestones with its body untouched by battle – the scales still in their original slightly metallic red coloring with none of them shattered or lacerated; the wings not even slightly damaged during the fight that must have happened here. Its head was lying on its side providing a good view of the underside of its jaw, but from Gobber's location he was unable to see anything else. He really did not need to though, the large puddle of blood emanating from the head told him everything – whoever had fought this dragon had been skilled – or lucky – enough to have gotten a killing blow directly into its head without requiring any preliminary hits to weaken it first. Probably a single hit that shattered its skull with a war hammer or split it open with an axe – swords were not too good for dealing killing blows, heavy weapons were better for that.

The Nightmare did not go down easily though, as he could see a charred human body lying just barely on the path. From the curled up position it was in, Gobber did not need to think twice about which dragon killed it – only the Nightmares were capable of incinerating a body so thoroughly that it was impossible to even identify whether it was male or female – most so killed were identified when the Viking warriors did not return home… The only end worse than that was to be caught in one of the flame pillars, as there wasn't even a body left – everything caught inside the boundaries was turned to ash. Still, getting caught in a flame pillar was quite rare, whereas Nightmare caused deaths were unfortunately much more common.

That of course, was not all. Further down Gobber was dismayed to discover the bodies of two Vikings nailed to the side of a house with Nadder quills, their blood running down the wall and pooling on the floor beneath them. One had obviously been skewered on the tail, probably when the Nadder swiped at the Viking and he did not have enough to dodge, after which the Nadder must have slammed its tail with its unfortunate load against the side of the house to get rid of the weight upon its tail – resulting in the unfortunate Viking being skewered to the wall, completely run through by three of the seven quills that were left in a straight line along the wall.

The second one was not nearly as lucky – if you could consider being run through by an array of quills as lucky – but it was still better than the mess the second Viking was. This one was nailed to the same side of the house, but was hanging almost ten feet in the air with a rather large blood splatter behind him from the force with which he must have slammed against the wall, and a line of blood streaking down from him to pool on the cobblestones below. His arm was completely gone, and from the ragged bits of flesh hanging off of the stump it had been ripped off instead of being a clean bite. As if that wasn't enough, his back must have been mangled beyond recognition for it to release enough blood to cause that splatter behind him. He almost looked like a flower actually, in a macabre sort of way, what with the circular bloodstain behind him, the 'stem' of blood rising up towards him, and the three precisely positioned quills stuck in his chest.

Without even trying Gobber's mind recreated the events that have most likely led to that bloody flower of death. The Viking had likely been outnumbered by the two Nadders – possibly after they took care of the other Viking who unluckily for him got caught on one of their tails. Then the two Nadders probably flanked the lone Viking, and one of them managed to tear away at his back. Blind from the pain but still capable of movement the Viking must have tried to turn around to get at the dragon, but unfortunately for him got his hand caught in the Nadder's jaws. It was over after that – the Nadder still biting on his arm must have shaken him violently enough to rip the arm completely off, causing him to fly up while simultaneously resulting in a half-moon splatter of blood on the cobblestones that Gobber could see from his position. The flight path of the Viking must have given enough time for the second Nadder to aim properly and nail him with those three precise quill shots, the force of which launched him backwards towards the wall upon which he was now nailed to, proving once again that unless you was a tried-and-true veteran, you had little chance for survival against multiple dragons.

_At the very least, he was most likely already dead or at least unconscious from blood loss before the quills reached him…_ Not that that would be any conciliation to his family. Gobber was actually quite glad the three corpses were far enough away (or charred enough in the case of the one closest to him) that he could not recognize them. It would have been worse if he knew who they were – and there was no chance that he didn't; after all, their village was nowhere near large enough for him not to know everyone by name and face…

If there was anything he truly hated about dragon raids, it was not the repairs required or loss of food as Stoick had exclaimed to Hiccup; it was the losses accrued amongst the Vikings – the inevitable deaths that meant yet another loss of a mother, brother, husband, or even just close relative or friend…

The two Nadders that have nailed the two Vikings to the wall have paid for that with their lives – for Gobber could see both their carcases further down the path. From the looks of it one got its throat slashed out and quickly bled to death, while the other one had its wing completely destroyed – he could not help but wince at that cacophony of broken bone, wing membrane, and unidentified flesh covered all over with blood. Fortunately for it someone put it out of its misery with a quick thrust to its heart.

_Hopefully it suffered before that someone granted it that small mercy – It deserved at least that much_ Gobber thought viciously before shaking his head to clear it. It was pointless after all – no point in torturing dumb beasts – but at times like this he really hated them. Funny really considering that he was the one in charge of the dragons in the kill ring for training younglings, and had at times grown fond of some of those dragons…

Well most of them – no one could ever get fond of the one winged Devil after all, not with it holding the title for killing not only the most trainees, but his own predecessor as well. The only reason they kept the damn beast instead of killing it was because no matter the losses it was still a better alternative to throwing the trainees into their first dragon raid un-bloodied. In any case, the other four dragons were likable enough – he would kill anyone who quoted him as saying this (mostly because he would never utter these words out loud), but they were almost pet-like in some of their behaviour… just much more deadly as well.

After this though… _Knowing myself I will 'forget' to feed them for a day or two, and then hearing the sad pining of the terrible Terror would relent and everything would fall back into how it was before… The same as before except for the slightly destroyed village in need of repairs and several Vikings I will never see again…_

Gobber turned away from the bloody carnage before him and instead turned to look with worry at his apprentice who was still buried into his side.

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Hiccup was still shaking from what he had just seen – but had fortunately managed to stabilize his rolling stomach.

It wasn't like he had never seen death before – even now if he concentrated he could see his mother's unnaturally still body lying in the blood red snow with several Nadder quills sticking out of her back; the mutilated corpses of several Nadders and a Nightmare sprawled out almost haphazardly around her. But perhaps in a stroke of luck for him, he had not seen anything like this after that – meaning that for him, this was the second time in his life that he saw the true outcome of this war of attrition.

Oh he wasn't sheltered from the war – no one was; but in most cases his exposure to death was limited to single dead bodies of dragons around the village, and after seeing the Vikings labouring at dismembering them for their hides and bones he had learned to subconsciously consider them as one would sheep – their deaths were…necessary… in a way for the village to survive, so there was little difference between slaughtering a sheep for food or killing a dragon to prevent it from stealing from you… _Well, besides the insane increase in difficulty of the later when compared to the former._

But he just wasn't used to seeing mutilated bodies and knowing that they were all someone he knew.

"Come lad – let's go."

Gobber's voice was no longer jovial as it always was, but slightly subdued instead. Hiccup could relate to him – he wasn't quite feeling up to bantering with the blacksmith either. Not after what they have just seen.

"Ye-" Hiccup's voice cracked through the first word and he quickly swallowed before trying again. "Yes; let's go…"

As they started walking Hiccup kept his gaze facing completely straight along their path so as not to see the scene again.

There were no other surprises on their way to Gobber's forge. Sure they saw some Vikings grunting over a Gronckle's corpse, attempting to remove its scales for use in armours, but there was nothing new or horrifying in that. Even Hiccup had seen the dragons be taken apart often enough for it to be just another part of life – strangely enough there were traders who were quite willing to pay well for dragon bones, dragon skins, dragon claws and teeth, and even those strange indestructible fist sized obsidian orbs that they always found inside each dragon. The meat would naturally be burned outside of town – it caused indigestion to anyone who tried to eat it no matter how it was prepared, and rotted away too quickly to be of any use.

Sometimes the grain and other products traded for the dragon materials were all that kept the village from starving during exceptionally bad winters, or after exceptionally bad dragon raids. The inflow of expensive wines, silks and sometimes jewelry was also a nice boon – a good way to prevent life from becoming too monotonous.

As to the dragon scales for armour, it was found to be stronger than most other materials that they tried, but unfortunately much weaker than when it was on the actual dragon – even worse, it was nowhere near as fireproof. Still, it was not too bad of a material to use for armour, only slightly worse than Gobber's metal plating covered with fur, and quite a bit better than tough leather. Besides which, there were always enough traders willing to buy 'authentic dragon armour' to make its creation worth the effort.

"In ya go lad. I won't tell you to stay inside, since knowing you, anything I say would fly into one ear and out the other – but I would suggest just cleaning out your room from all the drawings ye have scattered around, preparing it for slightly more permanent use, and then getting some rest. Sure its morning, but after that hectic night, we all would be better off with a little rest. As for me, I got to get back to your father – he would be glad to have another hand to count on."

Gently pushing Hiccup into the forge and closing the door behind him, Gobber turned around and hobbled off towards the Meade hall. Even if Stoick was not there at the moment, some of the Vikings there may know where to find him.

Hiccup on the other hand, was left alone and unsupervised in Gobber's forge. Shaking off the last of the bloody images still in his head he turned around and opened the door enough to spot Gobber's rapidly retreating back. A smile crossed his face – knowing his father, he had at least until sundown to do whatever he wanted – and he knew exactly what he needed to do.

_Just you all wait – Even you dad will not be able to deny my words when I bring back that dragon. And then… For once in your life… You will all have no choice but to be proud of me…_

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**A/N**

Hope that shows all of you that I am not going to stick perfectly to the original story.

Yes, there is a reason why Hiccup's / Stoick's house burned down.

No, I will not tell you why. Besides which, it will not become apparent until MUCH later. I like to leave plot points such as these to pop back up near the end of the story to tie things neatly together.

Once again, next update will be next Tuesday and be titled 'Eyes so much like mine'.

Finally, I want to thank everyone who had read/reviewed/favourited/followed this story, bringing up the count as of this chapter to 6 favourites, 9 follows, 14 reviews, and 1350 views. There are 10 chapters to go until the first part of cycle 1 is finished, and I am quite interested in seeing how things go.

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Thanks everyone!

Saienai


	10. 1st-9: Eyes so Much Like Mine

**~Ouroboros~**

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**1****st**** - 9. Eyes so Much Like Mine**

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Hiccup cursed as he picked himself up from the rocky forest floor he was sprawled upon after his leg got caught in one of the unearthed roots so prevalent in the forests of their island. Fortunately for him he had managed to get his arms in front of him to prevent himself from hitting the ground face first – not that he was in a mood to appreciate that considering the slightly bleeding scrapes covering his hands.

The sun had already passed its peak, and he could feel the last shards of his resolution crumbling within his mind – resolution that was oh so dominant when he had first set foot in the forest to look for that thrice cursed Nightfury that he had shot down what now felt like a lifetime ago.

Hard to believe that even after the ill-fated accident with the torch that had fortunately NOT burned down half the village and everything that had happened afterwards – his father's words that cut straight through him followed by the all too expected confrontation with the others of his age, the discovery of the remains of his house… and of course the scene he had inadvertently stumbled across on his way to Gobber's…

Truly it was hard to believe that he was still capable of anything more than stumbling into bed completely emotionally spent and trying to bury his thoughts deep in his mind – as he had done countless times before.

In fact the only thing keeping him together was the knowledge that he had in fact done something worthy of notice – and not in a 'not again Hiccup…' kind of way. The memory of the Nightfury's dark shadow streaking down across the sky to crash somewhere within the forests of Berk was like a single light in the darkness of his life – more than enough to spurn him into action.

It hadn't taken him longer than a few minutes to scavenge through his room within Gobber's forge where he kept most of his journals to find a relatively empty one and a pencil – his old one had been lost sometime during the frantic rush from that monstrous Nightmare that had decided that he would make a perfect snack after his ill-advised decision to proclaim his position to anyone bothering to listen about his success of shooting down the Nightfury.

Heck, with all the other Vikings focused on taking care of all the dragon carcases (and Viking ones, but he tried not to think about that) around the village along with repairing or at least partially mitigating the damages done to the village, it was a not so surprising but welcome break for him to have gotten to the outskirts of the village and across the perilous bridge to the main island of Berk without being spotted by the other villagers. Not that they would have done much to stop him – but there would be Hel to pay if his father got wind of this latest of his escapades.

Oh yes, he had most certainly been in high spirits then.

But now, having stumbled through more than several hectares of forest in his search for the elusive Nightfury he was reaching his breaking point. _How could a downed dragon that was likely still completely tied up by that bola and barely able to move if not dead from the crash be so elusive!_

He did not allow himself to even think about the possibility that the dragon had escaped – in the best case that would result in all of the time searching for it being futile. In the worst case…

In the worst case the dragon might be waiting to take a shot back at the one that shot it down, and Hiccup highly doubted he would fare well against a dragon that all the other Vikings labeled as 'run away screaming if you are within its general vicinity' with only a small dagger as his weapon.

Using the hand holding the journal where he had tried to keep track of all the spots within the forest that he had already checked to slam it shut, Hiccup used the other to massage his forehead in exasperation before letting his hands drop down to his side and raising his head upwards.

"The gods must hate me… How difficult is it to lose an entire dragon? Well, nothing more than yet another 'accomplishment' for me… The single Viking responsible for the most accidents within the village… The only human in the seven generations of Berk to have been prophesised to never become a Viking… And naturally my latest accomplishments of setting fire to half the village in a stunning reproduction of the Nightfury's first attack… Now I can also add losing a several thousand pound dragon to that list." He just let the words flow out along with all of his exasperation at the situation, secure in the knowledge that there was no one around to hear him.

As expected, Hiccup's highly cynical rant did nothing to improve his mood – if anything he was feeling even more depressed than before. Trying to vent some of his directionless anger and despair by slapping the unfortunate branch blocking his way as he stalked away did not help either, as it snapped back and hit him painfully across his face – just barely avoiding his eyes, but still leaving a nasty gash across his cheek.

Hiccup's thoughts of getting back home to grab an axe to vent some of his anger at the tree – impractical as that may be considering the difficulty of finding this particular tree again, screeched to a halt as he noticed that something had already completed his job for him. Slightly above his head the trunk of the tree ended in a mass of splintered wood, with the remainder of the tree lying off to the side.

Something must have hit it quite heavily for it to have been destroyed so badly – the break was clearly from bludgeoning force instead of the relatively clean cut of an axe or the perfect slice of Timberjack's razor sharp wings.

_It can't be…_

Hiccup's breath hitched in his throat as he realized exactly what was most likely to have caused this. A quick glance around confirmed his suspicions – there was a deep gash in the forest floor before him with several severed roots sticking haphazardly along it, and from what he could tell, it was quite recent as well. In his mind, only one thing could have possibly caused this…

Throwing caution to the wind – never a good idea considering the plethora of predators within the forest, not that he cared about that at the moment – Hiccup sprinted to the gash and continued running beside it. The path cumulated on a small hill, and Hiccup dropped down onto his chest unheeding of the sharp rocks unearthed by the passage of whatever caused the gash that were now digging through his vest and into his skin. The slight rise of the hill followed by the sudden drop from the precipice into the outcropping below had prevented him from seeing the ground past the edge and made him incapable of spotting the dark shape lying amidst the rocks below until he was practically standing along the edge of the drop no matter how well it stood out when surrounded by all the green, brown, and light grey colors of the ground it was lying upon.

Silent thanks were given to his instincts along with feverent wishes that whatever the dark shape below was, it had not spotted him during the sparse moments when he had blazingly run right up to the edge, or heard his approach when he rushed along the path of destruction heedless of all the noise he was making. Taking deep breaths to quiet down his rapidly beating heart, he focused on the sounds around him. If whatever was down below was aware of his presence, it would likely be approaching towards him and making at least some noise.

After a minute of lying sprawled on the ground and attempting to make as little noise as possible Hiccup felt just about ready to take another (and much more cautious) look over the edge. He had not heard anything outside of the rustling of leaves and some birds in the distance, so either he had not been spotted, or the dragon below (he highly doubted it could be anything else judging from its size…) was silently stalking up towards him… _Oh Thor almighty please let it be the former..._

Perhaps it was the fear of the dragon coming closer that spurned him to get another look down, but never the less, Hiccup slowly pushed himself up and crawled towards the edge. Taking a cautious look down below, his eyes widened and almost without thought he raised himself up to stand still at the tip of the hill.

_Yes… Yes! Oh thank the gods; yes!_

There, on the grass growing between the rocks scattered across the ground below was the still form of a black dragon. There was almost no chance of it being anything other than a Nightfury – although it could be another as of yet unknown rare species, Hiccup knew that with all of its scales tinted that particular shade of black it would have no problems blending in with the night sky. The dragon was completely black, with none of the colorful variations of all the other dragon varieties. Completely black that is, except for the dark brown ropes that twisted all the way around its body.

He simply had to get closer.

As silently as he could, Hiccup made a dash from the edge of the hill towards one of the large boulders he could hide behind. He most definitely did not want to advertise his position in the case the dragon awoke and the ropes tying it down were not as inescapable as he hoped. Several dashes between the boulders ended up with him leaning against the rock face of the boulder closest to the dragon.

_Well, it's now or never…_

Taking a few steadying breaths to force his growing anxiety down, Hiccup reached with his slightly shaking hands into his vest to bring out his dagger and cradle it against his chest. _Please let it not have noticed me._ Now that he had a chance to think about it, his mad dash between the rocks was anything but stealthy.

A few more deep breaths later he carefully peered out from behind the boulder to get a better view of the Nightfury, and got another dose of disbelief as he noticed it's unnaturally still form.

It looked… dead.

_Please let it be dead._

Things would be much simpler for him if it was – there was hardly any danger from a dead dragon, unless you stumbled and fell on any of its sharp pointy bits, which his brief glances at the dragon in front of him informed him the Nightfury had a distinct lack of. Besides which… his heart clenched at the thought… He really did not want to have to kill it.

There was a huge difference between shooting down a dragon and thereby causing it to die from the fall, and driving a dagger into its chest to feel the warm blood spilling along your hands. There was just something more _personal_ about the later… Speaking of which – an icy feeling settled in his chest – this would be the first time he would kill… The first time he would take a life – no matter if it was because of the Mangler or by the dagger clutched in his sweaty hand.

His first kill – not taken during the heat of battle in defence of the village; not taken because it was either him or it; not even for the purpose of putting food on the table. No, his first kill was going to be for his father's pride. Somehow, standing alone over his kill with it completely immobile on the ground, his reason for doing this seemed so minor – so… so frivolous…

Hiccup took another look at the still form of the dragon lying a few feet in front of him. It certainly looked dead.

_Please, PLEASE let it (not) be dead…_

Pushing himself back to a standing position Hiccup slowly walked around the boulder he had been hiding behind and towards the Nightfury. Without the rock to block his view, he was finally able to see the entire dragon laid out in front of him. It was lying on its side with its legs and wings completely tied up by the ropes of his bola. A small part of him that was not caught up in the maelstrom of his emotions was relieved to notice that with the ropes looped so tightly around it, the Nightfury was completely incapable of getting up and attacking him even if it was awake – _Or alive… _his breath hitched from that thought for a second – even disregarding everything else, somehow it just seemed so… wrong… to kill such a majestic creature.

Hiccup had always found a sort of deadly grace and beauty in the dragons – not that he had ever voiced those thoughts – the others, his father especially amongst them, were unlikely to either understand him or even take that revelation well. Perhaps he had been too young when his mother died, or perhaps it has been too long since then, but he did not even really hate them for it – his entire wish to kill a dragon spawned more from his wish to make his father look at him with pride for once in his life rather than from any inherent feelings towards the dragons themselves.

Now that he had the chance to look at a dragon instead of just seeing their darting bodies during the dragon raids (or even worse, the blood covered carcases afterwards); Hiccup could not stop himself from taking a moment to just gaze at it.

The dragon in front of him though was quite unlike the others he had ever seen. Besides the obviously dangerous claws on its legs, the Nightfury in front of him did not have any quills, spikes, heavy armour, or even teeth pointing out of its mouth that were so prevalent on the other dragon species. If had to compare the being before him to a non-draconic creature, he would liken it to lynxes which were quite common in Berk's forests. Even lying unmoving before him, the Nightfury extruded a sense of grace and maneuverability – sleek and powerful, relying only on its speed and dexterity to bring it within range of its fire or teeth. Even its claws were currently sheathed inside its paws – making the comparison even closer. From what Hiccup remembered of the other dragons, their claws were drastically different – longer, more angular, and incapable of being withdrawn.

-Drip… Drip…-

The sounds of droplets landing in water brought Hiccup out of his stunned state as he searched for whatever was making that sound. The front left leg of the dragon was dangling down lifelessly in the air due to the dragon's position on its side; a long jagged gash making its way down it. As he watched, a bead of red liquid formed on the tip of its bottom claw, growing larger and larger until it finally let go to fall down towards the reddened grass below.

-Drip…-

Involuntarily he took a step back. He had been so focused on the dragon and his own success of bringing it down that he had completely missed the heavy wounds upon its snake like scaled skin. The raged gash along its front left paw was not the only one – he could see slight tears in the membrane of its left wing that was sticking in an uncomfortable pose from its back due to the ropes tangled around it; and a long laceration stretching from just in front of its leg all the way back, disappearing behind its wing. Miraculously its snout and face were unscratched, especially considering that it must have fallen face first.

The other wounds however more than made up for that.

Hiccup could not tear his eyes away from the nasty wounds that were marring the otherwise perfect dark scale covered skin of the dragon. Only now, he could see that it was not as perfect as it had first appeared – patches of scales were gone, broken or even ripped off sometime during its fall, the trees and the ground having acted like a primitive fish scaling tool on the dragon's hide.

_…I did this…_

Unbidden, the bloody scene from that morning flashed before his eyes making bile rise up his throat as he hesitantly took a step towards the dragon – and then another. In almost stunned disbelief he brought his hand towards the deep gash along the dragon's side and traced it with his fingers, heedless of the pressure he was applying on the wound and the blood now coating his hand.

The dragon let out a pained roar and from Hiccup's new position on the ground after basically throwing himself backwards away from it he could see the rapidly rising chest and hear the sounds of pained breathing.

The dragon was most definitely not dead.

But it had to be.

Perhaps it was that which brought Hiccup back to reality as he suddenly remembered why he was here in the first place. The weight of his dagger in his hand registered and he took several quick glances between the dragon and the dagger.

His father would never recognise him unless he killed the dragon before him and brought a trophy back to dad.

That was however not possible while the dragon was alive – as it most certainly was at the moment.

That meant…

Hiccup swallowed – finding it extremely difficult to do so, before glancing at the dagger in his sweat covered hand again.

That meant that he would have to kill it.

_Nothing to it right? All I would have to do is drive the three inch sharp and as of yet unblemished blade within my hands mercilessly into the already damaged chest of the beautiful and stunningly majestic Nightfury in front of me… Feel the blade cut its way through the chainmail like scales of the dragon before slipping easily between the ribs and into the still beating heart that simply refused to give up on life, even in a hopeless situation such as this… Hear the last gasping wail of the dragon before him as its life blood left it to pour down the dagger and wash my hands in its warm blood… And then, as the last traces of life left the dragon and its heart stopped forever, I would then proceed to cut an incision below its rib cage with the now blood covered dagger, before reaching inside with my hand to rip out its –_

The dagger slipping through his fingers to land on the floor, Hiccup used both of his now free hands to cover his mouth as he swallowed several times in rapid succession in an attempt not to retch on the spot, made all the more difficult by the smell of blood originating from one of his hands. At times like these he truly hated his own imagination that was even now vividly portraying the warm feeling of flesh slipping along his hand as he grasped at the dragon's heart and _pulled_…

Oh gods above…

Opening up his eyes that he had closed in a futile hope that not seeing the wounded dragon would stop his thoughts, Hiccup looked at the grass directly in front of him and focused on his father. Now more than ever he wished that he had that unmovable confidence that his dad seemed to extrude without even trying – the one that had probably been there when he had killed his first dragon when he was six – the same confidence that Hiccup was lacking oh so much right around now.

Strangely enough, that seemed to work. The bloody sight of the dragon and his actions towards it within his mind were instead replaced by his father's face looking at him with that same glint of proudness and a beaming smile that he had seen on many other Vikings as they gazed at their own sons – the same look that had never appeared on his father's face before – the same one that he would look at him with once he showed proof of the dead Nightfury to him.

No longer hyperventilating, Hiccup rose from the ground and walked toward the tied down dragon, the dagger once again clenched tightly in his hand. He knew now what he must do – this was it.

This was the culmination of all his work – the final step along the long and difficult path to his father's acceptance.

All he needed to do was kill this dragon in front of him – and what did it really matter in the great scheme of things? Just another dragon added to the long list of those slaughtered throughout the years.

But for him – it would be a turning point in his life.

Any other Viking would not have any second thoughts about doing what he was about to do – and as soon as he completed this one, insignificant, task – he would also be counted amongst them.

Just a single action on his part, and the words of the elder would be proven wrong – just a simple movement of his hand and he would show that he really was a true Viking, no matter what she said – no matter what the other Vikings believed. Even if he did not accomplish anything else throughout his life but this, his name would be forever remembered as the only Viking to have brought down a Nightfury – the only species of dragon listed with a danger class higher than the most deadly of the rare dragons; something that even his father could be proud of his son for.

All he needed to do was to stab his dagger deep into this dragon's heart…

"I am going to kill you"

The words seemed to flow directly from his mouth, bypassing his mind altogether; his thoughts spilling out unbidden into the depths of the forest where only he and the Nightfury could hear them – and only he could understand them.

"In honor of my father, I will kill you before cutting out your heart to bring to him"

Without even noticing it he had already knelt down in front of the Nightfury with his dagger sliding along its scales to find that spot where it could slide between the ribs and into the heart.

"A single death – and I will prove myself to be a Viking! You understand that right? – I am a Viking no matter what everyone believes and this will prove it to them! Prove that I truly am a Viking…"

He didn't even notice how desperate his voice sounded as it broke over them.

"I will show everyone… Dad, Gobber, all the others… They will finally realize the truth… I am a Viking… I AM A VIKING!"

His dagger dipped into the softer recession between the ribs.

_There…_

His hands clenched tightly around the hilt he swiped several times at the spot as he had done to countless fish before and watched dispassionately the dragon flinch as its scales came off to fall down to the ground below. It was obviously much harder than with fish – barely within the limits of his abilities really, especially considering his weapon of choice – but in needed to be done. He knew that there was no way his weak body would have been able to pierce through them – but with them gone there was nothing to get in his way.

"If it's any consolation, know that I am sorry for doing this – but your death will not be in vain."

He never even thought about whom he was trying convince with his words – the dragon, or himself.

Angling the dagger, he pushed it inwards – feeling its razor sharp edge slide through the dragon's skin and enter between the ribs, straining his muscles to their extremes as it forced its way through the dragon's tough skin and flesh. He felt more than heard the reverberations from the dragon's pain filled cry and took one last look at the creature that would serve to elevate him from an informal outcast towards a glorious hero – not even realizing the gut wrenching self-hatred and pain that were easy to hear within his words as he whispered to the dragon, almost as if wishing for its forgiveness.

"I'm sorry…"

And he really was.

He felt the dagger slide just a bit further, grating between the ribs of the Nightfury before him.

The single dragon that had never even been seen – the one dragon that all the other Vikings feared above all others.

That same dragon that was even now lying before him, completely at his mercy.

The dragon that even now had its head slightly raised and was looking into his eyes…

_Oh gods... Its eyes…_

The deep green eyes that reminded him so much of his own – gazing at him with such deep fear and despair – deep pools filled with intelligence not unlike his own, and yet at the same time vastly different…

Those eyes…

Asking for mercy – begging him not to do this…

He simply could not break his gaze away from those eyes.

He was still on his knees right next to the dragon's chest – his hands still curled tightly around the dagger that was even now mere inches from its heart – and yet the dagger had inexplicably stopped its movement.

A single action – a single thrust of the dagger – an almost negligible amount of effort compared to what he had done to bring him to this point; and his dream that he struggled towards his entire life would be realized.

Why then did his hands refuse to move!?

_Why!?_

Why did those eyes remind him so much of those that stared at him from the calm waters in the bucket when he washed his face!?

Why were those piercing green eyes releasing so much fear and terror… Just as his own must have done when he ran from that monstrous Nightmare just after shooting the dragon before him down?

The same Nightfury that was even now looking at him…

"Stop looking at me with those eyes you– you– ! Stop! – Just please… stop… Everything I have done in my life had been for this single moment! So stop _looking _at me like that – _Nothing_ will stop me from killing you!"

Almost as if in response to his desperate exclamations the Nightfury broke its gaze and closing its eyes allowed its head to fall backwards onto the ground – back to the same position he had initially found it in.

_Thank you…_

Turning back towards the dagger yet again he threw his full weight against it in the hopes of finally finishing what he had set out to do.

Even as his head slammed into the dragon's leg – directly into one of the grievous wounds marring its body, and causing the Nightfury to release another painful roar, Hiccup knew that the dagger had not moved. His hands had not done their job, curling inwards lifelessly instead of holding steady and plunging the blade through the heart.

"I have to do this… I have to do this… I have to do this…" he repeated the mantra under his breath even as tears streamed unnoticed along his downturned head and dripping off his nose fell onto his hands.

_Why!?_

He felt the dragon give one last groan before it stilled.

_Why? Why was it so hard!?_

The dragon had already given up! It had already accepted its fate!

So why couldn't he do the same…

Why couldn't he just accept this dragon's death as it had done and just finish it?

_WHY!?_

But no, he just couldn't do it.

His lifeless hands releasing their hold on the dagger still stuck in the dragon's side, Hiccup could not help but think that the elder was right as always – He really was not a Viking.

And strangely enough, that thought brought a sense of peace to him.

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* * *

**A/N**

Quite honestly, this part and the forbidden friendship scene in the story have always brought tears to my eyes. The entire movie was perfectly done (from my point of view, and I may be slightly biased – don't know how, but I could be), and yet those two scenes are literally the reason I watched this movie over 10 times (three of which were in rapid succession – as in stopping for five minutes to go to the washroom and perhaps make some more popcorn before re-watching) in the span of a single week. That was back in jan-feb 2011, but still.

Hopefully there was just enough detail here to not detract from the story. I thought of making the entire scene shorter, but everything I put in was referenced at later on so I have to leave it all in. I really do hope I did this scene enough justice.

Also:

I like lynxes. Really. There is really no other point in having them in the story than for comparison's sake as well as to provide some depth to the type of wildlife around Berk. I read that lynxes live in parts of Sweden and Norway, which puts them roughly at the same longitude and location as I imagine Berk being located at. If I am wrong, just take it as an AU part. Lynxes will appear predominantly along with wolves as the predators in the forests of Berk.

And finally, I took the time to see how much I have written based on my plot outline and guessed at the lengths for the next sections (roughly, but still) and I came up to 500k words for the entire story… I really do not know if it will ever reach that much, but I will definitely at least try and finish it and see how close my estimate was to the actual numbers. I did finish up most of the 20k story covered in interludes (and prologue + epilogue) but those will be posted in between the different 'arcs'.

.

Saienai


	11. 1st-10: Mor(t)al Choices

**~Ouroboros~**

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**1****st**** - 10. Mor(t)al Choices**

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I awoke from a sharp pain originating from my side and felt my body convulse as its deep sleep was interrupted, instinctively flailing its legs against the tight bindings surrounding me and shooting a new dosage of pain through my mind.

Definitely not one of the best ways to wake up, believe me.

With my mind still fogged up with the last dredges of sleep, and it was all I could do to just lie wherever I was and try to understand my situation.

From my last memories I remember…

Some strange dark pressure upon my mind before a terrible pain begins to gnaw at my very soul?

No – That seemed wrong somehow.

I try and focus more and suddenly all of my memories rush back along with a deep exhaustion from my mind and dull pains from just about my entire body – making me feel as if I had flown until my body could hold out no longer before crashing down.

Guess that speaks volumes about attempting a procedure as draining as reliving my entire life when I barely have a third of my energy…

I definitely wouldn't be doing that again anytime soon. Wouldn't have started at all if I had my memories considering that I clearly remember being taught of the dangers of even attempting any of the truly draining techniques when your mind is not in its peak condition; and reliving all of your memories like I just did was just about as draining as techniques could go.

Moot point really – if I could remember my lessons I would not need to do the procedure as I would already have had all my memories without its help…

And now I was just trying to lengthen the time before I had to focus on my perilous position – both upon my mind and body.

From the nearly perceptible flames of my mind, I knew that I would need almost an entire sun cycle before I was capable of doing anything with my body without a chance of further injuring it, including healing any outstanding injuries and strengthening my muscles and bones enough to break out of the vines surrounding me.

I could only hope that nothing happened to my body during that time, as it would be quite unfortunate if some wolves or something found me and decided to make me their latest snack – an easy and tasty one considering my position…

I could almost feel a paw moving across the scales of my chest before they bit inwards…

Oh by the eternal abyss! –

That wasn't my imagination! – There really was something moving across my chest.

I opened my eyes and curved my neck around to look at whatever beast decided to approach me when I was in such a helpless position.

_Oh goddesses help me…_

One of the humans – likely from that same village I remember before the darkness smothered me – was crouched in front of my exposed chest with its metal claw slowly making its way diagonally across my chest, almost as if counting my ribs. From its scent I could tell that it was male and smelled of ash and metal.

"A single death – and I will prove myself to be a Viking! You understand that right? – I am a Viking no matter what everyone believes and this will prove it to them! Prove that I truly am a Viking…"

In the back of my mind I rejoiced at finding out that all those cycles spent learning several variations of human languages had actually come in handy – I could understand the human before me. That was of course until the meaning of the words pushed its way into my mind, along with that gut wrenching feeling of terror that tied up my thoughts for a moment and ironically made my heart beat faster.

I sincerely hoped that he did not mean what I thought he did – I mean, what are the chances that that 'single death' he was speaking of was mine?

…Considering our positions, quite high.

"I will show everyone… Dad, Gobber, all the others… They will finally realize the truth… I am a Viking… I AM A VIKING!"

With those words I felt the metal claw dig painfully into my chest and begin to tear off my scales.

I involuntarily flinched from the sharp pangs of pain that came as my scales were wretched upwards before tearing off my skin. Dragonkin replace scales quite often considering that they wear down quite fast; we even grind against trees or well-placed rocks to get rid of the older scales; but some of the scales that bloody human was tearing off were quite young and not meant to come off!

Considering that there wasn't even a pause in the human's actions, I highly doubted that he cared about the pain he was inadvertently causing me.

"If it's any consolation, know that I am sorry for doing this – but your death will not be in vain."

Mind numbing terror spiked through me, permeating deep into the natural fires of my mind and chilling it along with my body. With that, I could no longer lie to myself – the human was going to kill me, and in the state I was in, I could do nothing to stop him.

The human was far too close to my chest for me to be able to get at him with my fangs, and my entire body was too tired to offer any sort of resistance. Funny considering that the human was too focused on the iron claw in his paws and did not even notice that I was awake and watching him in morbid horror – a possibly deadly mistake considering that if I was capable of moving my legs or tail, he would not even notice his own swift death.

I felt more than saw the tip of his claw position itself directly between two of my middle ribs as I silently prayed for mercy. I couldn't even make a sound, for there was something stuck in my throat – fear.

_:: Please don't do this…::_

I didn't expect him to hear my thoughts – his mind, so close to mine that I could see its minute details, was a shard of frozen ice so much like that of the other humans I remember from this island – completely incapable of picking up my thoughts no matter how hard I broadcast them at him – and yet I hoped that he would at least feel them…

_:: Please don't… ::_

Feel them and stop this.

Futile hope really.

A fiery pain passed through me as the claw slid past the tough skin layer that was no longer protected by my scales, and into the soft meat – grating slightly against my ribs all the while. I had already known within my mind why he had picked that exact spot – with his short and thin claw it was the best way to get to my heart, and even then he would require its entire length to do so – and yet until the fire hot pain actually registered I simply could not believe that he would actually do this.

A pain filled roar passed through my throat, breaking its way through the solid block of fear that had been lodged within it.

Even having regained my memories and experienced the other humans tearing away at the dragons as the dragons returned the favour, I simply could not believe that it was possible for someone to so callously take a life when you did not require it for survival. The human before me said that my death will not be in vain – but what would it accomplish? I knew my body was poisonous to humans much like theirs was poisonous to us, and it wasn't like I was planning to kill anyone, so what would my death accomplish – Really?

"I'm sorry…"

_:: If you are so sorry, then just don't do this!::_ I could not help but exclaim as I felt the metal claw within me. A blade – my mind provided – as if it would possibly do me any good to know the human name for whatever it was that pierced my heart – the same one that was still beating strongly, as if unable to accept its fate that had slid so close to it already.

Just like I was unable to believe that my life could possibly end so suddenly.

I gazed at the small human before me with almost tangible intensity – as if hoping that by will alone I could stop my inevitable death.

And then he looked at me.

Our eyes locked, and suddenly I was staring at a pair of small green eyes.

Green eyes that were the exact same shade as mine – and strangely enough, filled not with anger or even conviction as I had expected; but with fear, pain, and gut wrenching horror at what he was about to do. Doubly so, for I could see those same feelings within the reflections of my own eyes on the surface of his.

The same fear and horror that I now realized was so prevalent within his words.

It was then that I truly noticed just how small and… fragile… the human before me was. He was barely half as long as I had seen the humans of his village be, and far thinner as well – the abyss take me, even his paws were frightfully thin, almost as thin as a single one of my claws!

By the sun goddess; the human before me was nothing more than a hatchling! What could he possibly be doing in the forest by himself?

And why was he so set on killing me?

The sharp pain from my chest reminded me of the blade still stuck inside it – hovering mere inches from my heart; and I could not help but wonder what could have possibly caused him to set out onto this path. For what reason was he here before me about to take my life?

As our eyes stared unblinkingly into each other's I recalled some of what he had yelled at me before plunging that blade into my chest – he was doing this to prove himself a Viking, whatever that was. With my death he will be recognized as such by his dad (_– father – sire?_) and the others of his clan.

I recalled briefly my own sire and the lengths to which I would go to have him proud of me – when I almost wrecked my body by attempting to strengthen it without supervision, it was not because I wanted to be stronger – it was to show my sire that I could and have him look at me with pride, the same way he had when I first learned to walk, run, fly…

We were so alike in that – perhaps all hatchlings are. I would never know of course, never having met any and unlikely to in the future considering how short it was going to be.

I looked at the human hatchling before me and even with his paws squeezing tightly on the blade that was about to bring about my death, I could really not fault him for this.

Perhaps he was right after all – perhaps my death will mean something…

I was after all the one currently tied down and unable to move while he was holding my life in his claws. How could I fault him for acting like a predator that all soul bearers were; even as it stung me to consider myself as… prey.

At the very least my death will be quick and painless… or at least quicker and more painless than if wolves or other predators found me.

Too bad that I had only lived for four Cycles before my end, not counting those spent in the darkness.

Well, everything must come to an end, and it seems that for me it had come earlier than I had expected.

The hatchling yelled out some more, but it was as if he was speaking an entirely different language for I no longer understood him, nor did I care to –

It simply no longer mattered – I had made my choice.

Strangely enough, a sense of peace washed over me as I realised this.

I accepted this.

I accepted my inevitable death at this Hatchling's claws…

…and this small clearing within the forest as my resting place.

As I broke the connection between our eyes and laid my head back onto the ground so as not to watch my death's approach, I sent out one last thought towards the hatchling – even though I knew he would never hear it.

_::Goodbye little hatchling – and know that I understand your reasons and forgive you…::_

The pain in his eyes flashed before me again, and I silently added to myself _…and hope that you will someday come to forgive yourself._

.

* * *

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A moment passed, then another one.

No matter what anyone else tells you, believe me – nothing can stop that feeling of dread you experience while waiting for the claw to fall. Perhaps that is why most of us would stop our own hearts within a single sun cycle after losing the ability to fly instead of waiting for the skylust to shatter their minds and drag them into insanity.

I would do the same, if only to end this waiting, but something rebelled within me against it. I guess I am just too young to truly accept death that way.

In an almost detached state I felt something strike against me, breaking open one of my numerous wounds, causing a stab of pain to pass through my body and involuntarily causing it to convulse while releasing a single roar.

_There it was – death…_

Or so I thought.

The pain from the aggravated wound settled down to a dull ache, and I realized that contrary to all of my expectations my heart still beat strongly within my chest – unimpeded by the blade that was still threatening to plunge through it. Perhaps the hatchling decided to cause some more pain before finally taking my life – but I did not care enough to try and see what he was doing. All I wanted was for this all to end.

_The eternal darkness of the abyss take it all, why was the hatching taking so long!_

The next few minutes were by far the longest minutes of my life – even longer than that endless sun cycle when for the first time in my life I was left alone by my parents. What was taking that forsaken human so long! If it was me holding him under my claws, I would have killed him quickly just to make sure he did not have to experience this!

With a pang of pain I remembered downing my first deer under the watchful gaze of my sire – my inexperience having caused me to slash it deeply in the chest instead of biting directly into its neck as I have been taught. I could vividly remember standing over the deer as it uselessly struggled to get up while I looked at my sire expecting to be praised for my work. Only now that I myself was in the same position as that deer did I understand my sire's disappointment as he quickly slammed his claws into its neck, slashing completely through it.

_Why was that sorry excuse of a human not doing anything!?_

The next moment I felt the blade slide out of my chest and my wings move involuntarily as something tugged at the vines wrapped tightly around me.

I snapped my head off the ground and towards the human. I could no longer take the suspense of waiting around for my death – I simply had to see what was going on!

-Snap!-

In stunned silence I stared in disbelief as the human used the bloodstained knife to cut through the vines, not even voicing the pain within my wings as they were pulled uncomfortably from the position they had been since I had first crashed here. The dull pressure upon my wings and legs released itself, allowing them to sag down into a more natural pose – incidentally causing my left foreleg to fold down over my chest.

The last vine snapped under the human's blade and I realised that I was free.

The human had not killed me – he had released me instead.

There was a moment of stunned silence as we both stared at each other – my mind too shocked at what had just occurred, while the human was likely still coming to terms with what he had just done.

The smell of my blood off of the blade still in his paws brought me out of my state of disbelief as I realised that my death was no longer a certainty that it was mere moments ago…

My mind clouded over – I had accepted my death, and yet my body had not. I only had a moment to feel the dawning horror before _it_ took over.

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* * *

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_-Danger; There was danger nearby…-_

_Its_ eyes narrowed down into mere slits and the human flinched away from _its_ now exceptionally deadly looking expression as he realized the exact position he had placed himself in. The creature before him was no longer the regal dragon it had been, no – it was… something else – something weaker, and yet at the same time infinitely more dangerous.

A beast in a true sense of the word.

Instincts propelled _it_ to force all of _its _abilities into augmenting _itself_, completely disregarding any danger and damages of doing so – even as some of the ligaments within _its_ wings tore apart and the wounds upon _its_ body reopened from the flexing muscles.

_-Have to take care of the threat, take care of the threat before the body breaks down, take care of it now – now – Now – NOW…-_

_It_ lunged right from its awkward position directly at the perceived highest threat, disregarding the fire-hot pain shooting through _its_ body as several more muscles tore apart. With _its_ pupil tightened into a tiny slit, all the color had long since bled out of _its_ sight, leaving behind a black and white picture of the world that allowed _it_ to see _faster_, with the world moving in slow motion from the enhanced reflexes and sped up brain functions that were focused only on the situation before _it_.

In the state _it_ was in, _it _was capable of dodging a hail of _MaegNur_'s quills – so it should not be surprising that one of _its _front paws caught hold of the human's chest and slammed the human into the ground, the claws digging into the human's skin.

_-Remove the threat. Kill the human before the body completely fails and becomes at the mercy of the human again… –_

In a detached state of mind I watched as my body acted upon _its_ instincts. The human hatchling was now caught between _its_ claws and a rock, the hatchling's eyes barely open and looking away from _it_ as if in an attempt to at least put some metaphorical distance between _it_ and itself.

Only a few more seconds more and the danger would be gone. Very fortunate as well, considering that from the pains _it_ was feeling, _it_ knew that even another half a minute in this enhanced state would likely result in permanent damages to _its_ body.

I felt _its_ body open _its_ mouth and prepare to take a bite of the hatchling _it_ was holding down, even as the hatchling' green eyes darted around searching for some way to escape, before giving up and focusing back into _its_.

_-Kill. Remove the danger. Kill the Hatchling. Kill the hatchling while it is still possible…-_

_::Hatchling!::_

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* * *

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The single thought passing through my body linked it back to me and I was suddenly once more in control – with _it_ receding back into the dark recesses of my body. Even as the last of _its_ control brought my jaws slowly closer to the hatchling's head, I looked down through the slits of my eyes and saw the terror within his eyes.

The same terror that had been in mine as I stared at what I thought was my own avatar of death approaching me.

That same human that had not only spared me, but also released me from the vines holding me down.

The same hatchling that was staring into my jaws as they unrelentingly thrust towards him.

_No…_

My mind was still scrambled from my recent brush with insanity so I could barely focus properly – but for some reason I felt that I did not want to kill the hatchling. Perhaps I wanted to repay him for releasing me, or perhaps it was my draconic nature that simply did not wish to take the life of another sentient being – at the very least not when its death would be so meaningless; in any case, I did not wish to be burdened with my first kill of a soul bearer being this human hatchling.

There was just one problem –

My head was still not listening to me as it drew downwards to end the life of the hatchling before me.

I had to improvise.

The pain shooting from my foreleg that had just moments ago been holding down the human made me question the brilliance of using it to intercept my bite. With my body now completely under control I gingerly loosened my jaw and released my paw from its hold – staring at the deep puncture holes of the bite mark upon it as my blood dripped off my claws.

I was lucky to have been able to stop my jaw from completely closing as that could have very well given me a crippling injury – as it was, I was likely have to limp along for a sun cycle or two even after I had rested enough for my body to begin to heal itself.

Looking back up towards the human hatchling I noticed that he had not moved from his position against the rock even though I was no longer holding him down. Instead he was staring intently with disbelief at my damaged paw as blood flowed off it to stain the furs on his chest. Perhaps the hatchling just could not believe that he was still alive – much the same way I felt when he had started cutting apart the vines binding me instead of bringing about my death.

The human slowly reached out with one of his paws towards my bleeding paw and I flinched back. From the moment I awoke to find a scrawny hatchling of a human standing over me as a hunter over his prey, this entire spectacle was so surrealistic as to have made me question my sanity – if it wasn't for the deeply rooted knowledge that I would _know_ if I ever went insane – just as I know I _had_ gone insane only moments earlier.

Still, I was not too far gone as to actually allow a human that had only moments ago been about to kill me to approach me, especially when I was in an even worse condition than I was before (as unbelievable as it was considering my condition when I first crashed here), what with the effects of my berserker rage and an almost bitten through paw.

If there was one thing I learned that fateful chaotic night when for the first time in my relatively short life I saw dragons and humans kill one another – it was that contrary to their small statue, at least compared to us dragons, humans were quite dangerous. I was not about to give another chance for the human before me to strike out at me again.

With a short growl to convey my preference for him to stay away, I forced my body to move as I leapt away from him in the direction of my cove and took flight – eager to get back to my nest for some much needed rest.

With my mind holding my failing body together, I forced my wings to beat strongly against the air and propel me forwards through the woods. The first down stroke brought me into the air, while the second one nearly doubled my speed. Gently pivoting my tail and secondary fins to swerve around the trees around me I took the third stroke of my wings…

…And felt myself lose control of my flight as I lurched to the side. My attempts to right my path failed miserably as I slammed into the thick trunk of a tree I had been attempting to fly around. The flare of pain from my aggravated wounds combined with shock from finding myself incapable of controlling my flight for the second time since waking up from the darkness caused me to release an angry and pain filled roar as I pushed myself back off the ground.

Perhaps I had done something to piss off one of the goddesses, for I could not find how this day could possibly get any worse. Not only did I have less than a minute before my body completely shut down from all the abuse it had to handle, but I was completely wrong on my original check of my body – there had to be something seriously wrong with it if I managed to crash while performing a simple gliding maneuver.

Something much worse than the couple of cracked or downright broken bones I had sustained from this most recent crash, as I had not had nearly enough energy to carry out even the most basic strengthening to increase the durability of my body.

_By the twin goddesses please let it not be something permanent!_

Both my second and third attempts at gliding ended in much the same way – with intimate encounters with tree trunks. Worse yet, halfway through my fourth attempt the ground below me ended and I found myself flying over my cove as I once again felt my body tip to the left. Impulsively attempting to right myself with my tailfins I felt my tail cut with almost no resistance through the air and coil under me, making me take a position about as aerodynamic as a rock – which naturally turned my flight into a graceful fall.

Or at least as graceful as I could be while unintentionally spinning and flipping around in futile attempts at righting myself before slamming down into the waters below. I would have definitely been horrified at the squealing sounds I was releasing followed by the loud splash if any other dragons had heard me…

…And if I did not have worse things to be horrified about – such as my inability to maintain steady flight and the newly broken state of my body. Even if there hadn't been something wrong with me to prevent me from flying, I doubt I could have with the damages accrued over my way (for I doubt it could be called flight) here.

With the last of my strength I forced myself to swim back towards solid ground heedless of my blood staining the waters red, and even managed to make five steps upon reaching the bank before the last of my strength left me and my legs buckled under me as I passed out from exhaustion uncaring of the newly awoken pain coursing through my body now that my mind was no longer holding it together.

I never even felt my body hitting the ground.

.

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**A/N**

The section for Toothless after he accepted his imminent death and relaxed on the ground was quite possibly the hardest to write. I started writing it at least six times and deleted it completely to start over as it was simply not turning out the way I wanted.

Also, for those interested; this chapter and the one before it were supposed to be one chapter split equally into Hiccup and Toothless points of view the same way it has been done here – it was just supposed to be half the size. I was truly worried that I was taking too long and stretching this section out, but no matter how many times I re-read these two chapters I could not find a way to shorten them without butchering the feelings I wanted to portray for them both.

Hope you guys agree.

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Saienai


	12. 1st-11: Harsh Decisions

**~Ouroboros~**

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**1****st**** – 11. Harsh Decisions**

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Stoick nursed his drink as he once more went through his mental list of damages accrued over the course of this latest of dragon raids. Fortunately for them the single fire-pillar that they saw was the only one that had occurred over the course of the raid; and better still, the Nightfury had disappeared after firing several shots instead of sticking around until almost sunrise as it usually did. Of course all of that was offset by Hiccup's blatant disregard of orders and the subsequent cacophony of destruction from the fallen torch tower. He really did not know what he was going to do with his son!

On the other hand, besides the three he had seen in the beginning, only five more Vikings had died over the course of this attack, which was quite good as compared to the losses he had expected due to the early nature of the raid combined with the sheer amount of dragons he saw during battle. Heck, considering the numbers of dragons killed, the next time traders came through the village he would easily be able to barter enough food stock and other necessary supplies to not only offset the losses suffered today, but also have a comfortable surplus – always a good thing considering the deadly winters so prevalent on Berk. _Overall, the raid could almost be considered as profitable…_

Stoick froze in the middle of taking another sip of his ale and stared into his half emptied mug before roughly shaking his head and downing the rest in one big gulp. He could honestly say that the last thought disgusted him more than any of the bloody scenes he saw while checking the status of his village. He just could not believe that for even a single second he had considered the… tragedy… that had just happened as… _profitable_.

Just thinking that word in conjunction with the dragon raid left a sour taste in his mouth that even a pint of ale could not wash away. But really though – a single dragon raid with tens of Vikings killed may be considered a tragedy; but considering that they occurred consistently two to three times during the non-winter months of each year for over three generations now, it was no wonder that they have slowly and almost imperceptivity changed into just another aspect of Viking life.

_Can't live without them any longer, what with over half of our trade being focused on dragon hide, bone and whatnot else – but at the same time we can't live with them either; the raids are slowly getting worse and the village simply can't handle this for much longer…_

He rubbed his eyes with a sigh from the direction his thoughts were heading.

_What a foul situation to be stuck in._

Vikings were extremely adaptive – they had gotten used to living on Berk which was until their settlement considered about as uninhabitable as a place can possibly be outside of Hel; and they had even survived when the regular barely survivable conditions of Berk made a turn for the worse with the arrival of dragons. But Stoick knew from the last few years of dragon raids that the addition of Nightfuries to the raids had finally tipped the scale from their favour – if nothing conclusive was done some time soon, it may not matter that Hiccup would never be capable of taking over as chief, there may simply not be a village left to be chief of.

Perhaps that was what the Elder really meant with her words – that the village would be gone before Hiccup had grown up enough to possibly become a Viking.

Stoick was all too well aware of their cursed situation, and while he had never actually told his worries to anyone – had vehemently denied any such accusations in fact – most of the other Vikings subconsciously understood their position as well.

Perhaps it was this more than anything else that had made convincing the others during the latest gathering a few minutes ago to come along on yet another futile search for the dragon nest. _Not futile, blast it! This time it will succeed and the village will be safe once more!_

Stoick cursed himself for ever considering the searches as futile – after all, if he did not believe it to be possible to find the nest and take care of the dragon problem at its source, how could he convince others to believe in him when he proclaimed them to be necessary? It was of course possible to just stop – to just give up on ever finding the nest and focus instead on simply defending their village, which would naturally allow it to survive for a bit longer as no resources would have to be used up on searching for the nest…

But they were Vikings – things like retreat and giving up were simply unacceptable to them. Each of them would rather die than leave the island in hopes of finding a place not plagued by dragons, and even Stoick himself would rather see half his village burn to ashes than voice the idea of just up and leaving the place due to the – he scoffed at the idea – 'danger' from living here.

Giving up on the searches for the dragon nest – the only actual attack method available to them against the dragons, no matter how ineffective it was – resonated too close within his mind to just giving up on the village and leaving altogether.

_Inconceivable really…_ he thought.

_Besides, there is nothing to show that the dragons wouldn't follow after you… _the nasty voice in the back of his head added.

A heavy thud was followed by the sounds of pouring liquid, bringing Stoick out of the deep recesses of his mind and back to reality as someone grabbed his mug from his unresisting hands.

"You of all people should know not to drink alone – or worse still to just sit around with an empty mug and a look that could curl water. Especially right after the raid – no matter how often they happen or how used we become to them, we all need someone to talk to afterwards. Here, drink up."

Apparently Gobber had noticed the gloomy atmosphere surrounding his friend and decided to help out in the standard Viking fashion – with a small 20 pint keg of ale or two (or three…) and a warm body to talk to – or 'talk at' depending on their state of consciousness. Grabbing at the recently refilled mug Stoick glanced at the blacksmith that he had shared uncountable battles with, and practically inhaled the entire mugful before passing the now empty mug for Gobber to refill yet again.

"So… What's biting ye this time?" Gobber said in a casual tone that sounded only slightly forced as he poured ale into both of their mugs and passed Stoick's back.

For a moment Stoick entertained the idea of ignoring the question with a gruff 'nothing' as a reply – as he would have done had anyone else posed it – but ultimately decided to just go along with it. After his wife's death, Gobber was left as the only one he could truly open up to and reveal the doubts hidden behind his stronger than steel exterior to.

Taking a glance around to make sure that no one was close enough to listen in on the conversation, Stoick started to pour his concerns onto his age old friend. "Am I really doing the right thing Gobber? Going out on yet another expedition to find the nest so close after the dragon raid? With the state the village is in we may not survive another one if it comes before we come back."

The words 'If we do in fact come back…' remained unspoken between them. They both knew that there was a chance of no one returning from such expeditions.

"Ah, don't you worry – it was probably just a one off thing due to our success during that raid a month ago. Considering our –_cough_– unfortunate losses of sheep, the beasties won't be back for a while. We'll be back long before then – and between the two of us we'll keep most of the others safe on this expedition."

Stoick chuckled. He knew that Gobber would try and go along on the expedition.

"Well, hopefully I can do as good a job alone as the both of us in keeping the crew safe." He shot back.

If it wasn't for the fact that Stoick could clearly remember talking about this topic earlier and explicitly telling Gobber that he was going to remain in the village as he had during all the other raids after he lost his arm and leg, Gobber's genuinely surprised expression as he pointed to himself would have looked completely sincere.

"Ye want me to stay?"

"We talked about this Gobber; I need you to stay and train the younglings – unlike last time we've managed to capture a live Nightmare this raid so you can get this year's group started. Long past time for them to start carrying their weight in the village." He replied, trying and failing miserably to not let any of the amusement he felt seep into his voice.

"Fine fine…" Gobber replied with a grin. "Can't blame me for trying to get out of it though can you?"

It wasn't that Gobber was all that thrilled for the expedition, but it was widely acknowledged that he would follow Stoick into Hel itself if Stoick asked him to. Sometimes he wondered if he would be able to do the same for Gobber as well were he asked; but with his son to take care of the answer just wasn't as black and white as it was for Gobber.

"No, not really…" Stoick said while chuckling softly into his beard.

"Still, you want me to train all of them? They're a rather small group this time; six compared to the twenty of last year, so I can probably train them all at once – make things easier for myself. What with Astrid and her, ahem – _situation_, it's really only five that truly need training. Besides we only captured one Nightmare this raid."

Something about that innocent question just did not sit right with him – Gobber was up to something… and six? Stoick was quite sure that there were only five younglings at the correct age, but it was always possible he miscounted. From what he could remember Elsa wasted away a couple winters back while Belch was lost along with his father on one of the ill-fated fishing trips leaving only five. Still…

"Yes, all of them. What, you expected something else?"

"Even Hiccup?"

Ah – so that's what he was going for. Stoick had completely forgotten to count his son among the younglings, and now that Gobber had mentioned it that did make six. Not that he was ever going to let Hiccup in to dragon training – life was difficult enough without the death of his son on his hands. Not that Hiccup ever understood that – asking to join training on an almost daily basis. As if that wasn't enough, now Gobber joined in as well?

"You know I can't! I mean – he would be killed before you let the first dragon out of its cage!"

"Ye don't know that."

"Yes Gobber, yes I do actually! Just look at him – nothing I have ever done had made a single difference! When I was his age, I was already out there killing dragons, heck – sure I know I am not the best example, but even the other younglings manage to help out during dragon attacks! Hiccup on the other hand is just… different… The one time I took him fishing he got pulled in by the first fish he hooked and I had to save him!"

"So he just has had some bad luck, that's all. All of us had at one point tried to catch something beyond our skills, not his fault that happened the first trip out for him."

"It's too persistent to be just bad luck! And even if it was, what makes you think it won't come again when he comes face to face with a dragon during training? Heck, he might just beat all odds and skewer himself by falling on his own axe even before that! I just…" All the steam he had gained throughout his rant seemed to leave Stoick as he sighed and continued in a much more subdued voice.

"I just don't know what I will do if I ever let him die Gober – After Val's death, he is the only thing I have left…"

Gobber suppressed a sigh at that. With Stoick, it always came back to that, and personally Gobber always thought Stoick only further stinted Hiccup's growth with his strange protectiveness.

"And yet he'd already managed to survive several close calls during the raids – what with his 'need' to test out those contraptions of his"

"…and every time he does that I fear it may be his last! If I could I would just lock him in during the raids and not let him out, or chain him in your forge or something – but with the amount of damage usually caused that would more likely than not be more dangerous still. I mean what if I locked him away in my house this time? I would have come back to his burnt corpse!"

"You can't protect him forever Stoick. It could be the next raid, or the time after that, but one of these days his survival may depend on him being able to fight. Better he start off under my supervision than be thrown into the chaos of battle without a leg to stand on. Perhaps even literally the battle after that."

"So what? You think just throwing him at the blood thirsty dragons in the ring would somehow be safer?"

"Don't say that – both of us know that for some reason the dragons that we keep in the ring are usually less dangerous than they are during raids. If it wasn't for that we would have a much higher death count during training. You and I both know that if Hiccup has to learn to handle himself, the training at the dragon ring is possibly the safest solution – no matter what ye think of his skills. Besides – don't you trust me to look out for our budding Viking warriors?"

He would have tried to argue some more, but Stoick knew that he had lost this argument. Gobber was right – he really was, damn it all. He just could not keep going with the hopeless attempts to keep his son away from any danger; one of these days he will be incapable of protecting Hiccup, and preparing him for that day was the only thing Stoick could do…

"… Fine…" Stoick's resigned voice was barely heard, even with Gobber sitting right across from him. "…Just – Keep him safe… From that dragon especially." He hated himself for sounding so… defeated when he said that, but Gobber being Gobber did not comment on it.

"I will Stoick; don't worry about it – I will." This time Gobber's voice was dead serious, and Stoick used that to try and push down all the reasons his mind came up with to back out from his decision.

With that Stoick stood up and left the Meade hall. There was nothing more to say between them, and the knowledge that in a few days his son will be in very real danger of death while he himself was far away on the nest hunt had soured his thirst for any more ale.

For better or for worse, he had made his choice – and he would have to live with it no matter the outcome.

It was highly doubtful that Hiccup would be at Gobbers at this time, but he hoped that his son would come back before he completely lost his nerves to do what had to be done.

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* * *

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The sun had long since settled down into the ocean, leaving the darkness to blanket the village; and yet Hiccup had yet to return from wherever he was. It was really just the knowledge that if he were to go to sleep now and postpone talking to his son until the next day then he would likely just scrap the entire plan altogether that kept Stoick sitting in front of the firepit at Gobber's house and idly stroking it with a poker.

When he had left the Meade hall he had made the decision to send Hiccup off to dragon training, and with every second that he sat here waiting for his son to come back he found yet another reason why he shouldn't.

_What if Gobber was just not fast enough to prevent Hiccup from getting crippled?_ What with there being several other younglings to take care of, he could not very well expect Gobber to focus on just his son…

And as he knew from many other situations; even a single moment of inattention was usually more than enough for a dragon to cripple someone – especially someone like Hiccup.

Where was the boy anyway? Stoick was sure that if anyone saw his son wandering aimlessly around the village he would have already been informed… Which really left only the forest behind the village – not a very safe place to be, even though strangely enough Hiccup would often enough wander around there; making Stoick worry even more about his safety.

Hopefully nothing bad had happened this time as well…

It would be perhaps another half an hour before the soft creaking of the front door would inform Stoick that someone else had arrived. Considering that the door would be opened slowly in an attempt to be stealthy, it would be obvious to him without looking up that it was his son instead of any other Viking that was more likely to slam the door or at least simply barge in heedless of the noise.

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* * *

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Hiccup woke up to the biting coldness of Berk's nights. It was only due to the moonlight shining through the forest canopy that he was even able to see anything around him, as the sun had set while he had been lying unconscious in this clearing. For a second he wondered what he was doing here, in the forest, all alone – especially at night! – but the next moment his memories of this day crashed back into him.

He had gone out to find that downed dragon that he had shot down during the raid – and not just any dragon, but a Nightfury – and fortunately (or unfortunately, he hadn't decided on that yet) he had found it.

He did not know what possessed him to let the dragon go, but he knew that with that single action his life was over and done with. It did not matter that the dragon had not killed him the moment it was free – the simple act of releasing it had brought about a realization that he simply could not bring himself to kill a dragon – even when it was lying in front of him waiting for death. With that came another realization, this one much darker than the last – it was obvious to him that he would always remain at the periphery of the village - fated to live in the village but never truly be a part of it – fated to never become a Viking.

He could only hope that the others would accept him just remaining in the background, hiding away during dragon raids, and perhaps taking over after Gobber as the blacksmith of the village. His father would obviously be disappointed, but then again, he had years of practice for that.

Standing up and brushing some of the dirt off of himself Hiccup froze when his hands encountered a rough patch on his shirt along with a dull pain from his chest as his hands brushed over it. Gingerly pulling away his shirt away from his skin, Hiccup winced as it tore away at the dried blood and opened some of the wounds on his chest.

Puncture wounds – from what he could feel along his chest – puncture wounds from the dragon's claws.

Disregarding the biting cold of the air around him, Hiccup removed his sleeveless fur vest and his shirt leaving him bare from the waist up. Under the nigh-dark conditions his chest looked worse than it probably was, considering that he had not bled out during his stint into unconsciousness.

Ignoring his wounds Hiccup instead focused on his disheveled clothing – while from what he could see of his vest it was in acceptable condition and any bloodstains on it would not be easily noticeable on its brown colors; it would be impossible for him to go back to the village with the obvious dark splotches of dried blood on his light green shirt along with the slightly less noticeable but never the less quite visible rips and tears from the dragon's claws.

He shivered as another gust of wind blew around him making him realize just how cold he was getting while wearing barely anything during the freezing nights of Berk. Quickly checking the back of his shirt Hiccup noticed with some satisfaction that it was relatively clean there and pulled the shirt backwards onto himself. It was slightly uncomfortable, but at least it no longer looked like he had just survived a… well… an encounter with a dragon.

Putting his vest back on, Hiccup absentmindedly searched around himself for his dagger, and finding it sheathed it into the inside of his vest before setting off towards the village, not noticing that his newly reopened wounds were slightly staining his shirt.

Getting back was not as difficult as some may have found it, as he had been almost living within this small part of the forest since his early childhood – usually as an attempt to get away when his father's disappointment got unbearable. Once he was in the village proper he let his feet take him home as he tried to decide how to break his decision to his father. Perhaps it would be better to talk to Gobber first and then… His thoughts ground to a halt as he found himself in front of the ruins of his house. Berating himself for not focusing where he was going, he turned around to head over to Gobber's. If he was even a tiny bit lucky he would be able to sneak into his room and take care of both his clothing and his chest without anyone else noticing.

Carefully opening the doorway and looking inside Hiccup barely held in a sigh as he noticed the outline of his father sitting directly between him and the firepit. How could he have even entertained the thought that his luck would allow him to pass through unimpeded!

Although it was futile by this point, he still attempted to sneak by his father and up to his room. Naturally this did not work.

"Hicc-" Stoick's voice froze the moment he noticed his son's disheveled appearance, messed up hair, and small dark stains on his shirt which his mind instantly recognised as blood.

"Hiccup! What in Odin's name happened to you!?"

Hiccup's attempts at replying were battered away as always as Stoick almost literally threw himself at him and was about to start tearing away at his shirt to get at whatever mortal wounds had been inflicted upon his son. Hiccup desperately tried to come up with an explanation while simultaneously pushing himself away from his father and ignoring the stabs of pain from his wounds.

"Nothing happened dad! I was just – you know – went hunting in the forest to calm my mind – and, well… messed up slightly in cutting apart a small deer I caught. So, yes – got some blood on myself, I'll wash it off later. Anyway – I am perfectly fine!"

Cursing himself for such an obvious lie, made even more so by his own winces of pain, Hiccup was surprised to notice his father stepping away with a quiet "Oh, that's good then."

He thanked all the gods that were listening to him that his father was apparently barely awake and had accepted his lame excuses for his appearance. Perhaps the situation was not as bad as he had first thought.

"So… Can I go now?" He asked. With what he had been through today he needed to talk to his dad about deciding against fighting dragons (not that his father would ever allow him in any case, but still…), but in the condition he was in right now he really did not want to give his dad enough time to truly take in his appearance and start asking very awkward questions like 'why do you have a wound on your chest that looks to have been inflicted by a dragon?'

The awkward silence stretched and Hiccup was just about to take it as a 'yes' and climb up to his room when Stoick replied.

"…No, not yet son. Uh – listen… About dragon training… I talked to Gobber today, and having seen the danger you have been in during the raid I just thought, well…" Stoick paused for a second to stroke his beard and Hiccup could feel his heart beat increase. His father never brought up this topic and would instead simply shake his head and reply with a resolute 'No' whenever asked – so for him to bring it up now…

"I think it's time for you to learn to fight dragons."

"What?"_ Oh gods no… Please let this be a dream – just a really horrible nightmare. I just can't take this on top of everything else thrown on me today._

"So while I'm gone, you will be in dragon training along with the others. You start in the morning."

Yep, Hiccup was right. The gods truly hated him. Why else would they finally grant his long standing wish to join dragon training so as to take one more step to being accepted – on the very same day that he had finally buried that wish due to the knowledge that he simply could not kill a dragon.

Taking his son's stunned silence as acknowledgement and disbelief at his luck, Stoick picked up a small axe from Gobber's stockpiles and thrust it towards Hiccup, who scrambled to prevent it from falling down to the floor. This turned out to be enough to bring Hiccup back to the world.

"Dad – Listen – I don't want to fight dragons anymore."

Stoick naturally took this as a joke and continued after a small laugh. "Of course you do! You've been begging me to get you into training for several years now! And you know what, you were right. It may have taken Gobber to make me see it, but I concede – you get your wish."

"No dad – you don't understand! I can't kill dragons!"

"Well, perhaps not yet – I quite agree that you may need to train harder than the rest, but I have no doubts that you'll be able to at the end of it!"

"That's not what I meant dad! I mean that I just can't kill dragons! I am quite certain of that! That it is-"

"Hiccup! Stop. I can understand that you may be slightly nervous about this, but this is not up for debate. Every Viking had to go through dragon training, and so will you." Stoick overrode all of his son's protests.

"But!-"

"No buts – this is serious son! We have already lost eight Vikings just during this last raid alone, and there are only the six of you to take their place! The survival of the village depends on us beating back those dragons, and it's time that you understood that. Its time you stopped tinkering around with those contraptions and doing whatever it is you are doing with those notebooks. The moment you were put into Dragon training and given this axe, you became a Viking – you became one of us. Do you understand?"

Hiccup knew that there was no point in arguing. As always his father had completely disregarded all of his thoughts and sarcastic comments and instead simply kept pushing his point forward expecting his son to agree. And really, Hiccup could not do anything but buckle under the pressure and accept his father's decision.

"Yes…" His dejected reply could be barely heard, but Stoick took it as if it had been an enthusiastic response.

"Good. I'm off to lead yet another nest expedition, and with our house gone you will have to stay with Gobber. I'll be back… probably."

Hiccup just stood rooted to his spot while his father grabbed his helmet off of one of the wooden beams above them and placing it on his head heaved the supplies he would need on the journey over his shoulders. Hiccup knew that with the conversation over with, his dad had once again put him out of his mind.

It was almost funny just how little he really meant to his father – nothing more than an annoyance to be rid of, or perhaps worse, a burden to carry.

As Stoick opened the door Hiccup replied with a simple "Goodbye". He would usually try for a snappy comment at this point to at least try and convince himself that he had not completely lost the argument; but this time he just could not bring himself to do it.

Everything was just too much.

The only reply from Stoick was a single grunt followed by the door slamming shut.

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* * *

**A/N**

Some slight exposure into interactions between Stoick and Gobber; including the much needed talk about putting Hiccup into Dragon training. I thought of originally skipping this part, but ultimately decided against it as it really fleshes out both Stoick's and Gobber's characters and will be important later on (I seem to say that a lot don't I?)

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Saienai signing off


	13. 1st-12: Mindless Beasts

**~Ouroboros~**

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**1****st**** – 12. Mindless Beasts**

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Hiccup awoke to the sound of yelling and hammering outside. From the light within his room he could tell that it was several hours since the sun rose, and from the noise outside it was obvious that the village was already well in the midst of repairing the damage done during the dragon attack the night before last. Sitting up from his bed he idly wondered why he was still wearing his outdoor clothing and had not even covered himself with some furs before falling asleep. That was of course before the dull pain from his chest registered in his still muddled mind.

Glancing down at himself Hiccup stared for a few moments uncomprehendingly at the dark brown spots upon his shirt before the memory of yesterday's events slammed into him. Apparently he had been too drained last night to even bandage up his wounds and would now have to pay for that decision. At the very least what little blood stained the furs he slept on was not quite noticeable, but the shirt had once again glued itself to his chest and was going to be difficult to remove without breaking open his wounds – again.

Well the day obviously started out _much_ better than the previous one. Hiccup snorted at that thought – It spoke volumes about how horrible yesterday was for him if even sitting in bed with blood staining the front of his shirt from whatever wounds his stupidity resulted in, the day was turning out to be better than before. Then again, he had an entire day before him to break yesterday's record, and what with the upcoming dragon training that his dad just had to throw at him on top of everything else, he highly doubted that there would _not_ be chances for things to take a turn for the worse.

With his luck they probably would as well.

At least Gobber was likely already at the kill-ring preparing for training instead of around the house ready to pop in at the most awkward moment – such as right now, when he looked like he should not even be alive from blood-loss, not to mention loafing around in bed.

Hiccup paused and waited. When Gobber failed to materialize before him, Hiccup released a melancholy smile and with a groan got off the bed. _Guess even my luck is not that bad…_

Gathering some sheets he could use to bandage up his chest without resorting to going to the village elder – which would have the same result as yelling out about his wounds to the entire village, and possibly only slightly better than having Gobber come in uninvited; Hiccup grabbed a bucket of water, and throwing his sleeveless vest on the floor to be soaked later on so as to remove the now dried blood on it, turned his attention to his shirt.

Removing it, he could not supress a wince – no matter how hard he had tried to be careful, fresh blood started to seep from some of the wounds. Gingerly wiping away at the mess of dried blood with a wet cloth, Hiccup was finally able to see the extent of the damage accrued from his mind-bogglingly stupid stunt of freeing a captive – and as he unfortunately realized not moments later, very much angry – dragon. While the five puncture wounds arranged roughly in the shape of the Nightfury's claw were not as grievous as he had thought last night, now that he could clearly see them he once again started to clearly feel the dull pain emanating from them.

Three of them were little more than scratches – not even reaching deep enough to touch his ribs; the last two from the middle claws were slightly deeper than that as he could almost see the whiteness of bone within. Now that he thought about it he was quite lucky not to have suffered any broken ribs from the weight the Nightfury had placed on him – heck, the relatively shallow scars he was sporting were definitely not the type of wounds one expected to come out of a meeting with just about any dragon with, to say nothing of the legendary Nightfury.

_Thank gods none of them look like they require stitching up! _– Or at least he _really_ hoped they didn't, otherwise he would have been left with no choice but to either go to the Elder or try his hand at doing it himself; neither option being something he would want to have to do. Besides the ruckus that would bring about – with Gobber first followed by his father when he returned; Hiccup really did not want to experience the unique feeling of getting your flesh sewn up again.

Better still, the wounds did not seem infected, which was nothing short of a miracle considering that he highly doubled that the Nightfury had bothered to clean out and wash its talons before using them to hold him down. They obviously weren't poisonous either, seeing as he was still alive.

_Still, from the amount of blood on my shirt I would have expected something much worse._ Hiccup mused as he selected a single long white sheet roughly the length and width he required from the pile and wrapped it around his chest. The others would have to be put back. Glancing at his shirt he could not prevent another wince. It was far beyond salvageable, but what with the dragon training – _don't think about it!_ – he would have a perfectly fine excuse to 'retire' it.

It was most definitely in need of being stealthily retired before people started asking questions about the gashes along the front, and all the dried blood on it. _Where could all of that blood have come from? _– If even half of the blood along the front was his, he doubted that he would have survived. Besides, the scratches he had received were way too small to result in… _That_.

Shaking his head Hiccup tried to focus on more important matters – namely finding himself another shirt, hiding this one, and trudging along to the Kill-ring where the dragon training would occur. Picking up his vest from the floor and throwing it into the water bucket, Hiccup pushed it away into a corner where he hoped Gobber would not find it, and went about putting all the sheets back where he grabbed them from.

Finding a shirt after that was exceptionally easy considering that he always kept several spares – you just never knew when you would wreck the one you were in when you were working in the forge, or hunting… or fishing – or any other typical Viking profession really. The old one was chucked behind the bucket with his vest to be retrieved and thrown into the forge's fires when Gobber was not looking.

It was only a few minutes later that Hiccup was on his way to the Kill-ring, finishing off the quickly thrown together sandwich of bread and smoked fish; the only signs of his adventures the previous day being hidden behind the wrappings around his chest which were nigh invisible underneath the heavy dark green shirt he got to replace his destroyed light green one. It was fortunately warm enough that he would not be remarked upon for not wearing a vest over it, considering that except for the one currently soaking in the corner of his room the rest have been destroyed along with his father's house.

The only other difference from his normal attire was the inclusion of the axe his father had so easily thrust at him the day before. It was almost ironic that out of all the weapons littering the forge, his father had selected this exact axe – the same one that had been his project for himself, back when he so wanted to join in during dragon raids. The same axe that his father had torn out of his hands whenever he spotted Hiccup doing practice swings with it – though whether that was from his father's insistence at keeping him away from dragon training or because the halfway wild swings have several times come close to hacking his own leg off he did not know.

During all those times he wanted nothing more than to grab the axe back, but now that his father had willingly thrust it at him Hiccup wanted nothing more than to drop it and forget its existence. Ironic wasn't it? – What could he say? That was the way his life seemed to always turn out.

So while he was loath to carry the axe currently weighing him down from his shoulder he hooked it across, Hiccup had decided to take it along with him to at the very least prevent further questions about his appearance in dragon training. Even if his swings with it were likely to pose more danger to himself than to the dragon he was aiming at, he could always drop it so as to run faster at any sign of trouble. Besides, hours of working in the forge may not have gotten him up to Snotlout's level of strength, but it did make carrying a small axe like this easy.

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* * *

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The Kill-ring was a giant round monolithic construction that had been carved directly into the stone outcropping at the edge of the village. While no one could remember what it was originally constructed for (or really cared enough to remember), it was quickly retrofitted for training young Vikings to fight against dragons once the raids started when one of the Vikings remarked how the storage rooms along its perimeter that have been carved out of solid rock would do wonders to contain dragons. The first dragons were captured and thrown in even before the metal walls and dome-like net were finished along the upper perimeter of the ring so as to prevent dragons from just flying away. Overall the ring was indented 15 feet down into the ground, with a 20 feet high metallic fence providing even more room for dragons to maneuver.

The inside of the kill-ring was roughly 40 paces from the center to the walls, incidentally making getting the dragons back into their cages after training not too difficult of a task even for someone like Gobber who was missing a leg and an arm. Then again, Gobber was one of the few Vikings that could take on a monstrous Nightmare by himself, even with his 'handicaps', so taking care of a few captive dragons that were almost tame in comparison to the ones you could expect during raids was well within his abilities.

While originally the Kill-ring was more of a final training grounds for already seasoned younglings, it wasn't even a single generation into the raids that someone noticed that the captive dragons were much less ferocious than those encountered during raids – as such Gobber, as the latest dragon handler, continued the long standing tradition of using the kill-ring right from the beginning of dragon training. Perhaps it was that same disposition of most of the captive dragons that led to few trainees sustaining crippling injuries or downright dying during training, even with the expected but still unfortunate general inexperience of the trainees.

At the moment Gobber was feeding the captive dragons while simultaneously checking on the gates to make sure none of them were worn out enough to warrant replacement. Although it had never happened before, if any of the dragons escaped while training was going on, even he might be hard pressed to fight against two or more dragons while simultaneously defending the younglings that would more likely than not be running like chickens with their heads cut off.

Out of the eight cages along the perimeter of the ring, six were currently in use – housing a Gronckle, deadly Nadder, hideous Zippleback, terrible Terror, the recently captured monstrous Nightmare... and the other Nadder. Of the six cages only one was equipped with doubly reinforced doors and was specially made to handle a Nightmare's flames. For a cage as sturdy as that it may come as a surprise that it was empty throughout most of the year, and has gained a tenant only just the other day.

The reason why the cage was usually empty was simple – the captive monstrous Nightmare was reserved for the end of dragon training when it would be pitted against the best trainee as selected by the elder – a rite of passage if you will, considering that the Nightmares were considered the most difficult dragons to fight (of the common dragons at least). Due to the general decrease in the dragons' ferociousness the longer they were kept, the Nightmare was captured just before the training began. This was done to guarantee the battle was as close to a real raid as possible for the trainee selected by the Elder as the best in his (or her) group, along with guaranteeing there _would _be a Nightmare for the champion to fight. As to after the rite of passage… the cage would empty no matter who was victorious.

The last two cages anticlimactically, were simply used to house supplies and store food and was thus never mentioned in front of the trainees – which led to some surprisingly interesting theories on what types of dragons were locked away there and how dangerous they must be since none of the Vikings ever spoke of them to the younglings – the theories just getting wilder and wilder amongst the current batch of trainees as training progressed without them being 'allowed' to fight the dragons inside.

Really though, it was the second Nadder that was considered as the most dangerous – it had been captured before Gobber's time, and from what stories he had been told it was just like the other dragons until one of the trainees accidentally smashed apart its wing. That of course was unfortunate because it meant that another one would have to be captured, but hardly surprising as it had happened before. The capture of another Nadder was placed upon the list of things to do during the next raid, and Gobber's predecessor Turk started waiting for the Nadder to inevitably waste away as all flightless dragons did – after all, what few knew was that the high fence around the ring was placed there not only to provide more room to maneuver, but to allow the captured dragons to stretch their wings and thus prevent them from dying within months of capture. The first captured dragons clearly showed the need for this when they killed themselves upon waking up in captivity to find their wings had been cut off to prevent them from escaping through at the time dome-less training ring.

The first month passed and as expected the Nadder started eating less while simultaneously becoming twitchier, snapping at any Viking that tried to approach, one having come mighty close to losing an arm when a group of them attempted to clean out the festering wound that was quite honestly beginning to smell. Naturally no one tried to check on its wound after that, and things were relatively quiet for a time.

It was several days into the second month when Turk let it out into the ring to stretch itself that it happened. Turk's son Hork had followed his father and was outside the fence looking in; and had been the one to pass on the story of what happened next, since Turk wasn't in any condition to.

From Hork's words, the moment the Nadder's door was opened up it rushed out and attempted to fly, even though its damaged wing was obviously uncontrollable as it was halfway spread open and dragging behind the dragon along the sand of the ring, the nauseating smell of decomposing flesh clearly emanating from it. Mindless of its obvious disability the Nadder jumped up into the air and as expected went into a spin as his working wing beat downwards. Letting out an angry roar that sent shivers along both the Vikings nearby, it stood back up and turned around to glare at its broken wing. Another screech later it darted down and biting down on it, heedless of both the horrible pain that action must have sent through its body – clearly visible from the nigh-uncontrollable twitching of its tail – and the pungent taste of rotting flesh that was now in its mouth. All of that paled in comparison to what it did next – straining its muscles to their fullest it proceeded to rip its wing completely off its body.

At that point both Turk and Hork were completely paralyzed in horror of what they were witnessing, and could do nothing but stare at the now one winged Nadder who, heedless of the blood pouring down its scales, flung its torn off wing to the side before releasing a torrent of flame to cauterize its wound, it's still twitching tail being the only sign of the pain it must have been in during the procedure.

Turning around towards Turk who was still gazing open mouthed at it, the Nadder let off just about every quill along the side of its tail towards him in a single shot. From Hork's words, Turk managed to snap out of it and attempted to save himself, but the veritable wall of quills that flew at him made escape impossible – three quills pierced his arms and five quills speared him through his chest, carrying him backwards and burying themselves several inches into the wall of the ring, effectively nailing him to the solid stone wall. Although he had not been shot through either the heart or the head, unconsciousness was nearly instantaneous from shock, and death followed not long after.

The Nadder on the other hand had dismissed Turk even before the quills reached him, and shifted its focus to the only other living being around it that it could reach. Not giving any chance for Hork to escape the Nadder released another wave of quills from its tail's other side which the young Viking managed to dodge by dropping bodily down to the ground and crawling off while the quills that did not hit the metal fence flew over him. As Hork ran off to get every able bodied Viking to help put the demon back into its cage – or perhaps to kill it, the hairs on the back of his neck stood up as the Nadder released a howl of frustration for the escape of its prey.

The following batch of trainees was taught by Gobber, and they faced off against the newly caught Nadder while the old one that was given the title 'one-winged Devil' was kept behind bars. While many Vikings wanted nothing more than to kill it, it was eventually decided to let it live since it was the only captive dragon that could consistently put out the same ferociousness at the trainees as they would meet during an actual raid. Thus the following batches of trainees were all pitted against the Devil during the last few days of training.

While unspoken amongst the Vikings, it was quite possible to lose one or two of the trainees during these mock battles – for unlike the other captive dragons, the one-winged devil always aimed for a kill; it wasn't dangerous as the others were, it was deadly. Still, that was the price they had to pay to decrease their losses once the newly trained Vikings were thrust into battle during an actual raid. That of course did not prevent the Vikings from hoping that the current batch of trainees would somehow manage to kill the beast.

Gobber really did not know what he would do if Hiccup failed to shape up during the first few months of training. Hiccup may have survived during dragon raids against dragons, but unless he was properly prepared for it, Gobber doubted that his strange brand of luck would hold out against the Devil – more than likely Hiccup would become the first casualty the moment the Devil was let out of its cage – probably the biggest reason why Stoick was so vehemently opposed to having Hiccup go through dragon training in the first place.

Shaking his head to get rid of such thoughts Gobber turned back towards checking the cages. He had the next few months to gauge Hiccup's process, and if his apprentice did not shape up it was always possible to take him out of training before he faced the Devil. It had never been done before, but he highly doubted Stoick would be unable to beat down the opposition if it came to a choice between his son's life and tradition.

He just wasn't sure how Hiccup would take it if it became necessary to remove him from training prematurely…

Still, there would be more time to think about it later – he wouldn't pit the younglings against the Demon until at least a few months of normal training.

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It wasn't half an hour after Gobber had finished his inspections that the younglings arrived. Turning around it was all he could manage not to do to not shake his head in exasperation at this new batch of would-be Viking warriors.

Ruffnut and Tuffnut Thorston were as always ribbing each other both verbally and physically with Fishlegs Ingerman trudging behind them in a vain attempt to appear like he was a part of their group. Snotlout Jorgenson was – as expected – attempting to talk up Astrid Hofferson who was ignoring him while attempting to hide just how close she was to snapping back (whether verbally or physically he didn't know), if that twitching eyebrow was anything to go by.

At the very least they had all brought their weapons with them – out of the last batch of twenty (sixteen now) that he had to train the year before, fourteen showed up with nothing but the clothing on their backs - probably expecting to be handed weapons upon arrival. It always brought a smile to Gobber's face to remember all the screaming and yelling as they scattered around upon the release of the Gronckle upon them. Being the least ferocious of all the captive dragons, Gobber did not even need to step in to save them until it had run out of shots – and even that was just to preserve the vision of dragons as dangerous beasts, since it had looked like it was about to fly back into its cage by itself in any case.

Heck, it looked to him that the dragon itself looked disgruntled at the quality of trainees pitted against it that time!

Of course the double ended fish spears that the Thorston twins were carrying were not exactly the primary weapons of choice against dragons, no matter how deadly they looked, but the two of them would learn that soon enough – hopefully during the first few lessons. Snotlout, Fishlegs, and Astrid had however arrived with two hammers and an axe respectively – proper weapons to take on dragons with.

At least none of them brought swords. He could never understand the strange Viking fascination with swords, considering how easy they were to damage during a dragon raid and how useless they were in comparison to a good axe or a hammer – it took a lot of force to break through just about any dragon's chain mail like hide, more than most swords can handle more than once, if that.

Still, even that last batch had become proper Viking warriors by the end, and considering that even the dragons seemed disgruntled at their quality the first time he pitted the trainees against them, Gobber knew that the group before him would have no choice but to follow in their footsteps.

"Welcome to dragon training!" Letting his voice boom across the entire ring, Gobber threw open the gates and allowed the younglings to come inside and gape at the ring. They had all seen it at least once before during the fight between the monstrous Nightmare and the last champion – _Benison was it?_ – In any case, there was just something about actually being down _inside_ it that always led to a moment of stunned silence as they drank in the sheer aura of the place – that or perhaps it was just the realization that there was no longer a sturdy metal fence between them and the dragons.

"…Finally here!"

"Can't wait to finally take on the beasts!"

"This is going to be great!"

Of course the silence could not continue for too long. Well, it was always interesting to see how long it took them to gain at least some fear of the dragons and drop that top-of-the-hill attitude.

"… Some burns – you know, along the side and maybe some on my back as well…"

"… A nice scar along the arm wouldn't be out of place either…"

"… Same here – After all, it's only fun if you get a scar out of it…"

Ah – how innocent they all were. It almost brought a smile to Gobber's face to see how little they knew of the world they were about to enter (or thrust face first into, considering his preferred training plans). No matter what the Vikings and visiting traders told each other across the tables when ale flowed along, scars and burns were really nothing more than proof that you were just not good enough to prevent yourself from getting them.

Well, they would lose all that soon enough – either that or die, and he would try his damn hardest to make sure it was the former.

"Yes, pain – love it! Never does a day pass without me wanting some and more often than not getting it!"

"Oh great. What is he doing here?"

"Hiccup? What are you doing here – you can barely lift that axe you are carrying!"

Strangely enough Hiccup did not seem nearly as excited to be here as Gobber had expected – what with him having to listen to his apprentice exclaim about his future exploits in the ring, Gobber would have thought he would be bouncing around with joy at his father's decision. Making a mental note to himself to talk to Hiccup after training, Gobber hobbled over to the gathered younglings to take control of the situation.

"QUIET! … Now all of ya; line up here and be quick about it." He bellowed and watched with satisfaction as Hiccup and the others all jumped and scrambled to form something resembling a line in front of Gobber, most only noticing what their legs were doing when they were already in place.

"Let's get started then. I hope that I do not need to explain to you why ye'r all here, but just to make sure y'all understand how serious this is I will go over it again." Pausing for a moment to make sure everyone was listening, Gobber nodded before continuing.

"For over three generations our village has been raided by dragons leaving us with no choice but to fight back. Y'all make up the fifty sixth group of younglings to enter into training, and will be the fifty sixth group of Vikings to join us in defending our homes. Now, let me impact upon you the most valuable lesson you will take out of dragon training." Stopping here, Gobber took in the expectant looks – even Hiccup seemed to be a lot less gloomy than he had been when he had first arrived.

_Good._

Taking a deep breath he bellowed out "THIS HERE AINT A GAME!" and watched in amusement as they staggered backwards from him, Hiccup managing to even stumble and sprawl down on his back onto the rough gravel of the ring. Normally this would have caused another round of embarrassment for him, but it appeared that none of the others were in a state of mind to even snort at it.

_Very good._

"All of ya think that killing a dragon is fun and exciting don't you? That it is some great honor that you should all be rushing headlong towards so as to be the one to kill a monstrous Nightmare – right? And I won't even get started on scars and burns – already heard more than enough from ye all on that topic." By the end his voice was laced with so much venom that even the Thorston twins were trying their hardest not to draw attention to themselves.

Taking a deep breath Gobber continued in a slightly more subdued voice, punctuating his speech with waves of the thick metal hook tied to the stump of his lost hand.

"Any time you go out during a dragon raid, you put yer live on the line – there is a fine line between greatness and stupidity, and while singlehandedly killing a monstrous Nightmare is a sure way of getting recognised and remembered, dying from one because you foolishly rushed in instead of attacking in a group is stupid beyond compare! You are all far from being able to take on any dragon by yourself, so do everyone a favour and don't die trying.

"One of the better Vikings may trip over your corpse." He added darkly and noticed the gathered younglings flinch at that.

"Remember this – while being selected as the one to kill a monstrous Nightmare before the entire village is an honor that ye may all want, there is never a guarantee that you will come out victorious. Even some veteran Vikings know better than to take on one by themselves. The champion's trial is exactly that – a trial to see if they can rise above others; do what many Vikings in the village aint able to."

Here Gobber grasped the metal hook replacing his arm with his remaining hand behind his back and lowering the volume of his voice continued while staring directly at Snotlout, who he considered to be the most likely to not take in the seriousness of the situation otherwise.

"Remember – there is always a very much real chance that the selected champion will fail and be killed instead."

The silence stretched after he finished, and he took the time to gauge their reactions. Astrid still looked as determined as ever, not that he had expected otherwise. Ruffnut and Tuffnut were shooting looks at each other, but seemed much less confident than when they strode in as if expecting the dragons to just bow down and beg for the honor of being killed by them. Snotlout had also lost some of his better-than-thou attitude, though not nearly enough to satisfy Gobber.

Which really only left Fishlegs and Hiccup.

Fishlegs was at the moment standing stone rigid with his battle hammer held tightly in his hands, looking as if he was attempting to hide behind it. Overall a rather amusing sight considering that by weight Fishlegs was heavier than all the other younglings put together. Well, perhaps not Snotlout, but the other four definitely.

Hiccup's expression however was not what he had expected. Having given a slightly abridged version of this speech to Hiccup several times – twice after he started constructing his latest invention, and quite a few before – Gobber completely expected the same response as before. That is, a general disregard of everything said with a slightly impatient attitude. This time however, Hiccup looked more subdued - his entire posture crying out 'just get it over with already'.

Gobber reaffirmed his decision to have a nice long talk with Hiccup after training. For now though, there was just one more thing left to do. Hobbling over to the doubly reinforced doors of one of the cages he continued his lecture.

"Out of the five common types of dragons that we almost always see during raids, Gronckles are placed quite low on the danger scale. Lacking spikes, quills, sword-like wings, poisons and acids that are unfortunately all too common on most of the other types, Gronckles are limited to either bludgeoning into ya with their armoured bodies or shooting fireballs. As such they are the perfect type of dragon to ease you into training with."

At this point he was positioned right to the side of the doors and was casually leaning on the lever that would open them. He could honestly say that ever since seeing his own trainer do this to him and the other younglings of his year, he had always taken perverse amusement at seeing his own trainees sporting the same horrified looks as he had back then.

"Wait wait wait – aren't you going to teach us first!?" Snotlout's voice cracked near the end – a much better attitude than what it had been mere moments ago. Smiling, Gobber allowed his weight to fall down on the lever.

"I believe in learning on the job."

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* * *

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_What part of this represents 'easing' us into training!?_

If he survived this, Hiccup feverishly promised himself, he would stop tempting fate with his sarcastic comments. Oh, he knew that there would be dragons in _dragon_ training – there was simply no question about that. He also knew that even simply showing up would cause Ruffnut and Tuffnut to question his appearance, leading to a moment of humiliation that he was well prepared to weather.

All of that was no problem for him – it was Gobber's decision to sic one of the caged dragons on them in a sort of baptismal ceremony to welcome them all into dragon training. Obviously today was trying very hard to battle its way into first place of his 'worst-day-of-my-life' list; the position currently reserved for yesterday's events. Dodging away from the Gronckle as it zeroed in to some of the larger rocks along the edge of the ring, Hiccup mentally crossed off 'not having to run away from a frenzied dragon that would like nothing more than to kill me' from his list of things that made today better than yesterday.

"Quick – what is the one thing you have to have before rushing into battle against a dragon?"

Perfect – and now Gobber decided to actually teach something. Not the best timing, but Hiccup would take whatever help he could get, since his original plan of just staying in the background as everyone else trained was shredded and the resulting mess incinerated by a fire-pillar only for the ashes to be scattered to the winds with the realization that the first day – and likely most of training – will be more of a trial-by-fire than training up one's muscles and practicing axe swings.

"A good weapon?" Snotlout's idea could be heard as he smashed his axe into the side of the Gronckle as it flew by and did not even manage to catch its attention.

"Better speed?" Fishlegs haphazarded a guess as he tried to keep himself to the side of the dragon so as to prevent it from focusing its attention on him.

"Definitely a lot of help – quite possibly divine in nature. Thor or just about anyone wielding Mjolnir would be a _godsend_ right around now." Muttered Hiccup so as to not be heard. Having worked under Gobber for what felt like forever made it easy to guess just what Gobber was looking for, but at the moment some help (divine or otherwise) would have made his life a lot better – either that or not being inside the ring in the first place.

"A shield" It was naturally Astrid that came up with the correct answer as she had started to sprint towards the wooden equipment stands the second the Gronckle was out of the cage.

"Good! Always remember – yer shield is indispensable in combat! If ye have to choose between a sword and a shield, take the shield!" If the situation wasn't this serious Hiccup would have rolled his eyes – being Gobber's apprentice he was intimately aware of his mentor's hate of swords. If it was Gobber's choice, he would choose bare hands (or hand, as the case may be) to a sword; and many times during dragon raids Hiccup himself felt like taking the hopelessly bent swords that Vikings threw at him for quick replacements and shoving them into quite an uncomfortable area of said Vikings for their stupidity at using swords in the first place.

Hearing the sound of an explosion brought him back to the situation at hand and caused him to franticly search for the Gronckle which he found not even a second later on the opposite side of the ring.

Trying to keep the dragon in his sights, Hiccup ran over to the ruined equipment stands and picked up one of the shield lying nearby. In the general commotion of everyone running for the shields the stand was destroyed after Ruffnut and Tuffnut decided to focus more on their sibling rivalry instead of the dragon and flew off in two beautifully coordinated side spins followed by a terrible landing into the equipment stands when the shield they were fighting over was targeted by one of Gronckle's shots. Fortunately for both them and him the dragon seemed to have lost interest in that part of the ring and started chasing Snotlout instead, allowing Hiccup to put on the shield unimpeded.

"Thompsons – ye'r both out! The rest of you, focus on that dragon! 'All of you' includes _you_ Hiccup; get in there!"

The twins groaned and skittered away towards Gobber's position where he was leaning against the side of the wall not far from where he released the dragon.

_If there wasn't a rule against the trainer standing by with a smug grin as the trainees were chased by a frenzied dragon, then by Thor almighty there should be._ Hiccup thought as he ran off.

"Now, every dragon has specific weak-points you can use – if nothing else helps remember that most species are sensitive to noise – and luckily for you yer shields can be used to make some!"

Although his mind was screaming at him to take the moment when the dragon wasn't focused on him to run, Hiccup disregarded it and rushed to take his place along with the three other trainees around the dragon so as to disorient it by bashing the metal center of their shields with their assorted weapons. If he had still been interested in killing dragons, Hiccup would have definitely taken this moment to rush in and at least attempt to swing at it – as it was, he instead hung back and watched as Astrid noticed the same chance he had and jumped in with a yell to land a solid hit with her axe against the Gronckle's side.

The hit must have done some damage as it caused the Gronckle to release a pain filled roar as it crashed into the ground and skid slightly along it before firing off another of its fireballs – which fortunately missed everyone, flying clear across the ring to form yet another blackened indent in the kill-ring's stone wall. The Gronckle then proceeded to turn around and fly towards Astrid in an attempt to bludgeon into her, passing her by to slam into the wall itself due to the remains of its disorientation combined with some dexterous dodging performed by Astrid.

"Perfect timing – now before it gets back up, how many shots does each Gronckle have?"

"Five?" Hiccup ventured a guess while keeping his eyes on the crumpled body of the dragon whose scrambles to right itself told him that it would not be long before he would be dodging death yet again.

"Oh I know! Its six right?!" Fishlegs exclaimed right after, waving his shield in the air – not a very good idea considering that it proved to be a clear target for the no longer disoriented dragon.

"Right! And with three shots gone, that leaves one for the each of ya! Oh, and Fishlegs – get over here!"

The next few moments all Hiccup could think of was avoiding the Gronckle that seemed to have decided to focus on him. Two close shaves and a near miss later he chanced a glance at Snotlout and Astrid – the only two besides him that were still remaining – and wasn't too surprised to notice that they were taking the dragon's single minded focus as a perfect time to take a break. _Heck, Snotlout wasn't even bothering to keep track of the dragon and was instead chatting up Astrid! Couldn't they – _

He had to stop his thoughts there and quickly dodge to the side followed by several rolls on the ground as the stupid dragon tried to slam into him again.

_Come on! Stop focusing on me already!_

Miraculously, the dragon seemed to follow his thoughts and flew off to launch another fireball at Snotlout instead of finishing him off – probably because lying sprawled on the ground under the weight of his shield made Hiccup look at least partially dead, and most definitely no longer a threat.

There was yet another sound of an explosion followed by Gobber's bellow announcing that Snotlout was out as well. With his sight taken up by the spinning image of the sky crisscrossed by the heavy chains closing off the top of the kill ring, Hiccup was left to simply assume that Snotlout's lack of attention had led to some undesirable – but expected – results.

Heaving himself back up to his feet Hiccup cursed his own lack of attention as the very next fireball hit the shield he was trying to lift from the ground and sent it flying off across the ring. Panicking at the loss of the only object he could conceivably use to guard against the rampaging dragon, Hiccup let his axe fall back to the ground and ran off towards his shield.

As Gobber's for the first time since releasing the dragon panicked voice yelled out his name, Hiccup chanced a glance behind him and realized the full extent of the predicament he was in – namely the Gronckle that was even now flying straight towards him.

_Oh shi-_

The rest of his thoughts escaped from him along with his breath as the dragon slammed into him, propelling them both several paces more into the wall, prompting his heart to attempt to follow his thoughts up his throat. From his position of being pinned down by the bulk of the dragon, Hiccup could just spot Gobber rushing towards them before the Gronkle's open mouth caught all of his attention.

As he futilely attempted to scramble out of the way of the next – and last, not that it made any difference to him – fireball, Hiccup could not help but think of how this crossed out 'pinned down by a ravaging dragon' from the list of experiences he would need to trump yesterday's fiasco, as well as adding 'getting killed by one' to today's list. _And so, it is with great exasperation at my life that I announce the ascension of today to the top of the 'worst-day-ever' list as the official worst day of my remarkably short life._

The ear-deafening explosion led to a strange moment of relief that puzzled him until he realized that the simple fact that he had heard the explosion and could still think about it meant that his brains were not quite as splattered across the wall as he had expected them to be. When the weight of the Gronkle was removed from his chest, Hiccup finally allowed himself to open up his eyes that he did not remember shutting and stare with disbelief at Gobber who was even now dragging the dragon back into its cage with his metal hook while the dragon quite unsuccessfully attempted to bite its way through it.

Still in shock, Hiccup glanced around him to take in the frightened faces of the others – for even Astrid seemed to have gotten over her child-like belief in the 'greatness' of fighting dragons. Perhaps if he had not just seen his life flashing before his eyes Hiccup would have been happier to have seen her actually seem to care for his well-being, but as it was he could feel nothing but relief at getting out of such a situation unharmed.

Heck – from his rough glance-over of his body he had actually managed to get away with fewer wounds than from a similar situation yesterday!

"Well, that should give you a first taste of what fighting dragons is really like instead of whatever child-like fantasies ye have thought it was before."

Gobber had taken the moment of everyone's lapse in attention to lock the Gronkle back in its cage and lazily hobble back to the group.

"Remember this: A dragon will always go for the kill – so you cannot let yourself be distracted during battle. Every mistake that ye make may very well be yer last! I've known Vikings much better than you lot fall because they disregarded that." Looking over all of them with the same hard gaze that had been on his face when he had first lectured them at the beginning of training, Gobber nodded before finishing.

"That's enough for the day – get some rest and meet back up at the Meade hall at sunset."

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* * *

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Having seen the slightly gazed expression on Hiccup's face and watched him stumble away along with the rest of the younglings, Gobber decided to postpone the planned conversation with his apprentice to sometime after the gathering at the hall. It was highly doubtful that he would be able to get anything out of Hiccup after the scare the lad had just experienced. Even with all the near-miss situations that he had seen his apprentice get into during the dragon raids, this was by far the closest Hiccup had come to actual death – if he had been just a second later… well, it was better not to think about what Stoick would have done to him if Stoick came back to find his son had died mere moments into the first day of training.

Besides which, he himself had to get something strong to drink – the Gronckle was usually the least aggressive of the four caged dragons! It was for that reason that he had not been worried when it started shooting fireballs at the trainees since he could see how it always aimed its shots at the shields which at most would result in a dislocated shoulder if the shot landed incorrectly, but nothing truly damaging.

Hel, he had been more worried when the Gronckle was in a state of disorientation from all the noise than any other point because it could have accidentally done some actual damage! It was for this reason above any other that Gobber had started using it as a wakeup call for the young trainees ever since they had captured it – the Gronckle was sufficient to get the trainees to understand the dangers of facing an actual dragon while at the same time keeping any real danger away from them until later!

Sure he expected to have to intervene to prevent Hiccup's untimely death, but not until much later into training! If this was how each day was going to be, he may have bitten off more than he could chew when he convinced Stoick to send his son off to training…

With a shake of his head to get rid of his thoughts he walked over to the sixth door and opening it grabbed a partially filled basket of fish. Closing the door and going over to one of the few still standing armoury stands he picked up a decently sized axe and hooked it to his belt before hobbling over to the Gronckle's cage.

Opening the cage and making sure again that the axe was within easy reach even with the bundle of fish over his shoulder Gobber carefully walked to the entryway and glanced inside. His tensed up shoulders relaxed when he saw the Gronckle calmly lying on the straw along the side, extruding an almost visible desire to remain exactly where it was.

Coming over and throwing the fish towards the dragon Gobber could not help but release an exasperated sigh. The Gronckle was completely back to its relaxed self, and if he had not personally witnessed it attempting to kill Hiccup only moments before he would not have believed it to have happened.

"Now why would ye do that eh? I promised the lad's father I'd take care of him, and the first chance you got ye go and try to fry the kid…"

For a moment Gobber just watched it lazily gobbling up the fish before scratching his beard and continuing despite his knowledge that the beast in front of him could not understand him no matter what he said.

"It's like the moment I think I understand the behaviour of you dragons ye simply can't help but prove me wrong…"

Perhaps it was just him, but when the Gronckle lifted up its snout to stare back at him, he would have sworn that it was smiling at him.

.

* * *

**A/N**

And that completes the longest chapter I have written for this story, measuring in at 8k words. Please do not expect all the next chapters to be that size, if I could I would have broken this one down into two chapters, but I just couldn't do that while still keeping the flow of the story the way I wanted. There may be other chapters of this length, but just as with the 2-3k word chapters they would be few and far between.

Also, that marks the appearance of the first OC of this story. I will try and limit the number of OCs as I find they detract from the overall feel of the story, but this one (and any other ones) was (and will be) necessary.

In case you did not recognise it as such, the 'one winged devil' is a OC dragon that I added in that will have quite a large effect on the story (not in a deus ex machine way), and it has absolutely nothing (both character and backstory wise) to do with Sephiroth (at least not intentionally, my knowledge of Sephiroth from FF is limited to 'badass dude with bigass sword who has something to do with Cloud from FF and whose theme music is 'one winged angel'. Quite sad for someone who owns four FF games, but still…).

As you can hopefully tell, the name came from the fact that it has one wing. I actually got the idea from Hellsing with its 'devoured his own wings', and the character just went on from there.

Thank you all who reviewed, hope you (and everyone else as well) continues to follow the story and perchance review (for the first time or again). It really stimulates writers to see their work appreciated.

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Saienai


	14. 1st-13: The Chasms Between Us

**~Ouroboros~**

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**1****st**** - 13. The Chasms Between Us**

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"This was, quite possibly, the stupidest idea of my life"

As could be told from a single glance at Hiccup's expression, he was not in a good mood. Several hours after he had returned back to Gobber's forge after the fiasco of dragon training in the morning he had decided to try and find the Nightfury – again.

Now that he was here, it was starting to become apparent to him just how stupid – stupid and dangerous – the idea really was.

It was into this forest that he had shot down the Nightfury, it was within this general location where he searched for it the first time, and it was in this exact clearing that he had finally found it. Incidentally it was also within this exact clearing where he had his temporary moment of insanity leading to him releasing said Nightfury which promptly attempted to either maul him or set him on fire – he wasn't sure he wanted to know which.

It was also right here where it had spared him and flown off; quite unlike the Gronckle that had him pinned in almost the exact same position just scant hours ago in the kill-ring.

Still, Hiccup was seriously considering if the past few days have not completely shattered his precarious grasp on sanity. After all, if returning to the same place where you have recently almost been killed, and more importantly where the possible killer could still be lurking was not considered insane – that or freeing a tied up being that was known for its horrible effect on Viking life expectancy; he did not know what would be.

Then again, how else could he label himself – the self-proclaimed pacifist Viking who could not kill a single dragon, even when said dragon was all tied up and ready for the slaughter.

Though, why hadn't the Nightfury killed him? He himself could at least plead temporary insanity for his own actions towards it, but he doubted that that would work as an excuse for the dragon. Besides, Gobber, the widely regarded expert on dragons himself had told them all in clear words that dragons would always go for the kill.

Turning around Hiccup glanced in the direction he remembered the Nightfury flew off into. Considering that the chances of him actually surviving dragon training were abysmally low – proof to point, his near death during the first day – the least he could do was sate his desire to know why the dragon that he had shot down and had more than reason enough to kill him didn't, while another dragon that really should not have anything against him tried its hardest to.

Besides, it had not rained last night and Hiccup could still see traces of brown on the otherwise green grassy floor where the dragon had landed. He didn't even need to close his eyes for his mind to place the image of the Nightfury with its regal black scales marred and in some places shredded back in the spot it laid when he had first found it. If it wasn't for his own personal experience telling him otherwise, he would have never believed that the Nightfury – or any dragon really – could still move in such a condition.

The dragon had spared him the same way he had when he stumbled across it, and there was just something inside him that _needed_ to make sure it was alright.

_I just hope I don't get killed for this…_

Having reached a decision, Hiccup readjusted the slightly rough new vest he stitched up after training to replace his old one, and proceeded to track down the Nightfury – something much simpler than he had expected considering that it did not fly away as he had expected, but instead seemed to have kept slamming its way into trees and tearing away at the ground, leaving gashes in the trees where their bark was stripped off their trunks and skid marks along the grass.

It did not take him long to reach the end of the tracks, for no more than several hundred paces from the clearing the forest opened up into a fair sized cove with a small lake in the middle. The ancient trees along the edges have long ago run out of room for their gargantuan roots, causing said roots to hang down the cliff-like edges. Down below various rock formations littered the ground, mostly along the edges where they must have fallen down from a long time ago. Although the cove was nearly completely closed off, from his position Hiccup could see the narrow gap where the lake emptied down into the ocean. Overall Hiccup could not help but be amazed that such an idealistic location existing within the treacherous landscapes of Berk.

Amazed and slightly disappointed.

_Well that was useless._

There was no dragon in sight – Nightfury or otherwise. He wondered what it said about him that he felt sad and annoyed at not finding the dragon he was looking for instead of being relieved that there was nothing around that could potentially see him as a good afternoon snack.

Turning around to get back to the village Hiccup took several steps away from the edge and paused. The cove looked quite inviting, and since he was already here it wouldn't take much time to explore it – it was much better than the places he used to get away to after particularly bad arguments with his dad, and strangely enough he had never found this place when he went out exploring the forest. Heck, he doubted any of the other Vikings knew of this place – there wasn't much to hunt in this part of the forest so few people ever ventured here. Considering that it was roughly half an hour's walk from the village it was quite unlikely that anyone would come here in the foreseeable future ether.

Now if only he could find a way down that did not require him to get a rope – preferably one that offered a way back out if he got stuck down there.

It took him almost an hour to finally find a place along the edge where it was even possible to attempt to climb down, an entire hour during which his excitement grew until he was almost giddy from it. The place was just perfect! Blocked off on all sides with nigh impassable walls no one would ever search for him here during those moments he just needed to get away from everything! With everything that had happened to him these past few days it was nice to see that some things could still go his way for a while. Unlike his usual haunts in the forest, the cove offered quite good protection against predators, meaning that he could truly relax inside it and lose himself in sketching out whatever came to mind – be it new ideas for designs or just the world around him; and considering the beauty of the cove, it would take a while for him to run out of things to draw.

The way down that had finally revealed itself to him probably acted as an overflow route for a nearby river during the heavy storms quite common around Berk along with the annual snow melts. With most of the dirt and relatively small stones washed away it looked like a shallow chasm along the ground, with large smoothed over rocks sticking out from the bottom and sides. It was rather simple to jump in and get out of it when he traced it further out from the cove; but the depth of it deepened the closer it came to the cove's edge, being almost twenty feet deep at the point it opened up into the side of the cove.

From his position at the edge of it, Hiccup could see that there was still forty to fifty feet to go to reach the bottom of the cove, but fortunately for him the layered nature of the rock walls along this side of the cove combined with the thick roots from one of the thousand year old trees rooted above him that hung down formed an easy way both up and down from the position he was at.

Well, relatively easy – he was sure he would have little trouble climbing down and up as long as neither the roots nor the rocks were wetted from a recent storm or worse still covered in a thin layer of ice as was unfortunately all too common for similar cliffs during Berk winters. Still, even with perfect conditions he doubted that anyone except for a human well versed in climbing (such as him incidentally) would be able to use this way in and out of the cove – even lynxes would have trouble going up and down the hanging roots – though he supposed it would be possible.

Sitting down close to the edge to take a sketch of the place before continuing down Hiccup's plans were interrupted by an angry bellow as a dark shape darted almost within reaching distance of him, the shock of which sent him sprawling onto the ground and reflexively scrambling backwards deeper into the narrow opening where he could hopefully hide in the shadows. With disbelief he watched its futile attempts to scramble up the smooth and near vertical walls that extended further up to the actual ledge of the cove, before succumbing to gravity and disappearing back down below.

Although he had only seen it for a few seconds before it disappeared once again, Hiccup knew that it was most definitely a dragon – more specifically, the same dragon he had shot down just the night before. Though how it managed to scramble up fifty feet of the nigh vertical cliff face from the bottom of the cove up to his hiding place – without flying apparently – was not something he wished to think about.

Well, he got his wish – he found the Nightfury, and apparently it was back to prime condition seeing at how it was jumping off walls instead of resting as he would have expected of someone with the types of wounds he remembered on it.

Perhaps like his own, the Nightfury's wounds simply looked worse than they really were – that would at least explain how it was capable of lightning fast movements mere moments after being released. His curiosity about the dragon along with the remaining feelings of guilt had a brief but ferocious battle against his instinct of self-preservation – the later having been given a significant boost from the events these past few days, but still nowhere close to being able to handle the former side of the argument.

He needed to get closer.

Scrambling back towards the opening Hiccup took several steadying breaths before peering out again, infinitely more cautious than last time.

He spotted the dragon immediately. How could he not when it was walking along the opposite end of the cove completely ignorant of the fact that it was no longer alone. From the looks of it, it was gearing for yet another flight. Not taking his eyes off the dragon Hiccup reached into his vest to get out a notebook he could use to draw the beast in front of him before stopping.

The cove was quite large, and what with him being positioned almost on the complete opposite side of the Nightfury, not to mention fifty feet above it, almost everything except for the vague outline would be lost to him. He would need to get closer if he wanted to draw something even half decent.

Strangely enough the thought of coming closer to the Nightfury only made him feel more excited, so much so that he was already two ledges further down and over thirty feet away from the safety of the opening before common sense once more took over, causing him to skid to a halt and lie down on his belly so as to at least decrease the chance of being spotted. A good thing too as the next step of coming closer would have involved climbing down the roots, and that would have definitely caused enough noise to warn the dragon about its unexpected visitor.

As the dragon rushed along the other end of the cove across the lake from him before launching itself upwards, Hiccup had already flipped open his sketchpad and was quickly sketching its general shape as he imagined it would look from above, filling in any parts he could not see from memory – an almost snake-like head with an ear and two 'flaps?' on either side; the slightly widening torso roughly three heads in length followed by a tail which looked to be roughly another five heads in length. Two wings were hastily drawn in in with rough details from yesterday's encounter, and a wingspan perhaps one and a half times longer than its length from head to tail as he had eyeballed when it had them spread open in preparation for taking off. Lastly there were two fins directly behind its wings and two more at the end of its tail, showing the least detail as he could barely notice them from his position, only having spotted the two behind the wings when it had spooked him at the entranceway scant minutes ago.

Breaking off from watching the dragon to glance at his drawing to check its quality, Hiccup only turned back when he once more heard the grating sound of claws on stone and the almost frustrated gurgling growls. The Nightfury was once again attempting to claw its way up the steep sides of its cove and was apparently not having much success this time either.

Hiccup could feel a sliver of worry grow within him as he watched it push off the wall and perform something between gliding and falling, ending with it plowing its way along the ground before jumping back up and taking off again in the opposite direction. It was blatantly clear that it was attempting, and surprisingly enough, failing to get out of the cove.

Hiccup shivered. His mind just couldn't understand how it was possible for the Nightfury to not be able to leave whenever it wanted to.

"Why won't you just fly away?" he did not notice himself muttering softly as he saw it spread its wings and launch itself up again, easily gaining height with a single beat of its spread wings. Despite knowing that more than just the last few attempts that he had seen had failed spectacularly – it had after all been over a day since he had released it, so he doubted that these were its first attempts at getting out – it was still surprising to him when the dragon dipped to the left and slammed its shoulder painfully into the ground, not having even flown far enough to reach the opposite side of the cove.

This time, it took much longer than several seconds for it to stand back up, and even Hiccup could see the dejected look upon its face. He could almost feel the frustration radiating from the dragon – frustration and perhaps just a sliver of fear. Somehow, he knew it was unlikely to try getting out again – at least for now. As it slowly trudged its way towards the lake to drop itself down before it, Hiccup's mind was franticly attempting to understand why it couldn't fly.

It was quite obvious from the way it had been running around that any injuries it had sustained from crashing down into the forest were, if not completely healed then at least healed enough to be disregarded. In much the same way it was obviously not too hungry to fly – not that he had even thought that possible of any dragon.

Its wings were in good condition with no rips or tears along them; as was its tail which was incidentally lying out in full view from his position, showing off its single perfectly fine fin stretching along the right side of the tail.

The second fin was missing from the other side.

Hiccup jerked as his eyes darted between his rough sketch of the dragon and the Nightfury still lying before the pool before using the cuff of his shirt to smudge away the left tailfin on his sketch, not even noticing that his rapid movements had caused his pencil that had already been lying precariously close to the edge of the rock ledge he was lying on to be pushed off. The sounds it made coming down were more than enough to catch Hiccup's attention, causing him to freeze and focus on the dragon with a vain hope that he had not been spotted. His breath hitched as he noticed that his stare was being returned.

Perhaps it was the fact that the Nightfury did not make any attempt to make its way towards him that kept him from scrambling as fast as he could back to the opening he came from, or perhaps it was the memory of _this _dragon deciding not to kill him, but even so it was almost a minute before the pain in his chest made itself apparent in his mind causing him to notice that he had been holding his breath the entire time. Taking in a lungful of air he watched as the dragon below lost interest in him and with a snort turned back to the pool, once more attempting to catch some fish swimming in its shallow end with several quick darts of its head. He felt another pang of worry as he noticed that it had been unsuccessful both times. He was sure that it would not have any difficulty catching its prey if it had been capable of flight.

The moment broken, Hiccup looked away from the dragon and stashed his notebook back inside his vest. While he still wanted to get down into the cove and explore it, that plan no longer seemed like such a good idea – no matter how helpless the Nightfury looked at the moment, there was always a chance it was hungry enough to find him an acceptable snack – especially if he decided to freely walk into its den. Besides, the sun was going to be setting soon and he had to get back to the Village in time for Gobber's meeting.

Still, he did not hurry as he climbed back up towards the exit from the cove. For some reason he was almost certain that the Nightfury meant no harm to him – at least as long as he stayed away from it.

With a final glance back at the dragon that was now curled up on the grassy grown below either asleep or completely ignoring him, Hiccup increased his pace and left to get back to the village. There was still enough time to at least take a small break after his escapade into the forest before he was supposed to meet with the rest of the Vikings-in-training at the Meade hall.

Had he kept his gaze a while longer he would have noticed the Nightfury opening its eyes and looking up towards him, watching him leave.

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* * *

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"… Now that ye have all had your first actual battle against a dragon, I hope I do not need to tell you just how unprepared you are to fight them. After all, if you were ready then there wouldn't be any reason for dragon training – now would there?..."

The Meade hall was relatively empty this early in the evening, and Gobber's naturally loud voice could be easily heard over the scattered din of conversations going on within its walls. It was with some trepidation that Hiccup realised that he was the last one to arrive and that the others have already started without him.

It had taken him longer to get back to the village than he had expected because of a sudden onset of rain that had come out of nowhere to drench him to the bone, incidentally making crossing the bridge between his village and the actual island of Berk much more difficult due to the wetted wood under his feet and the high winds attempting to fling him off.

If he knew what was good for him – and he most definitely did in this case – he will not be mentioning to anybody exactly where he had been wandering and where he was when the veritable flood caught him.

Attempting in vain to squeeze some of the water from his vest Hiccup hurried towards the tables Gobber's voice was originating from while at the same time hoping that Gobber would not draw undue attention to his arrival.

"… remember, any advantage ye find is yers to take. Unlike what can easily happen in a real fight during a dragon raid, there are six of ya against a single dragon, and more importantly you do not have to watch out for any other dragons joining the fight. So use that to yer advantage!"

Gobber's tirade continued as Hiccup tried his hardest to walk over as silently as possible. From the way Gobber's eyes had flickered to him when he wasn't even halfway to the table, Hiccup knew that at least one person had already noticed him – still, he would prefer to postpone the mandatory ribbings from the others for as long as possible.

"Seeing how _well_ y'all did today, I think a little warning is in order for tomorrow's training" The exasperation in Gobber's tone made it obvious exactly what he thought about their first try at dragons, causing Hiccup to wince; a move that was mirrored by all the other younglings save Snotlout who Hiccup personally thought was too thick-headed to have clued in on what Gobber really meant.

Noticing that Gobber wasn't continuing, Hiccup spared a glance towards him and noticed the expectant look. It was obvious that Gobber would not continue until Hiccup was seated, and so steeling his heart for what he was sure was to follow, Hiccup quickly shuffled his way towards the tables and sat down at the edge. Gobber nodded towards him, but that was all the welcome he got. The others seemed content to act as if he wasn't there – a much better response than he had been expecting, but Gobber's words along with his near death must have still been at the fore-front of their minds.

They all knew – except perhaps for Snotlout, but even he could feel the atmosphere around him – that they were a lot further from being considered full-fledged Vikings than they thought. Worse still, no matter how useless they considered Hiccup to be; during the first time they were placed face to face against a dragon they were not much better. Whether it was through luck or skill, Hiccup had been able to last for longer than anyone except for Astrid – even with his near death experience moments later.

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* * *

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Being a long time veteran of dragon raids meant that Gobber had noticed Hiccup's attempts at approaching them unnoticed before his apprentice was halfway across the hall. He had continued to act as if he hadn't noticed until Hiccup was only several steps away before focusing his eyes on him and waiting for him to take a seat. For a moment Gobber played around with the idea of putting his apprentice on the spot for being late before discarding that plan – after what had happened in the ring, being late was something he could easily forgive Hiccup for.

Instead he casually glanced around at his trainees, not letting any of his thoughts show on his face. Inside though, he knew that while the first lesson had turned out more dangerous than he had expected, it had done its job. The six younglings seemed to understand just how different an actual battle against a dragon was from those their imagination had provided them with. It was for this reason that just about every actual lesson would pit them against one of the dragons in the ring.

Truly there was nothing more important than experience. As the age old Viking saying went, if you want to teach someone to swim, just push them into the water. There was a distinct lack of information about how deep the water was to be when you did this, but over time he had found that just enough water to drown in was the perfect amount – it provided very real danger while at the same time allowing you to save the trainee with much less work on your part if they should falter and actually start drowning.

"So for tomorrow's training ya will all be facing a deadly Nadder – and mind ya while I honestly doubt you can do worse than y'all did today, do try better – today was just embracing."

Not giving them enough time to think too much about it, Gobber continued while at the same time taking out a thick leather bound book which he threw on the table in front of them.

"To help ya out, here – the dragon manual. A collection of information about every dragon we've ever had to fight including both the common dragons and the rare dragon types, along with their weak points and the attack methods we found to work best against them. I expect all of you to at least use some of what is written down against the Nadder tomorrow."

Snotlout seemed like he was about argue, but Gobber just pinned him down with his gaze. "So do study up – Spoon feeding y'all how to go about fighting a dragon leaves a foul taste in my mouth, and is an embracement I doubt either of us wants to repeat. I mean really – needing to be told to pick up a shield; I know it was the first day, but still… At least ya all had your weapons with you."

With that he rose from his seat and proceeded out. The rest was all up to them, but throughout his career of teaching the next generation of Vikings he had yet to meet a group that did not at least glance over the Nadder before the second lesson or have the five most common dragon races along with the only legendary dragon type memorized before the end of training. Somehow he doubted this group was going to be the first.

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* * *

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Hiccup lay on his bed staring unseeingly at the ceiling beams above him. He really should not have gotten his hopes up since every time he did, life just had a way of bringing them down – typically in new and exciting ways. For once in his life he had felt, if not accepted then at least not completely ostracized by Astrid and the others. He thought that participating in dragon training along with the others had changed something between them.

He really should not have allowed himself to hope – it only made things feel so much worse in the end.

The few moments of silence after Gobber had left were ended by him as he offered to read the dragon manual together – they all needed to read it in any case, so it would be better to just go over it as a group, right?

From the disgruntled looks and rolled eyes that he got in response, reading as a group was the last thing on their minds. Fishlegs had chosen that moment to start spewing out lines that he had remembered from the book – as he had apparently read it seven times before – but the others quickly asked him to be quiet (to put it mildly).

As they all grabbed some food off the table, Snotlout picked up the book and flipping haphazardly towards what Hiccup thought was the section about deadly Nadders, and proceeded to quietly mumble his way through it – looking the entire time like he was attempting to burn his way through the pages with his eyes. Hiccup wasn't sure how much he had actually read before slamming the book shut and throwing it towards the Thorston twins, nor was he sure how much of what he read would actually stick around until tomorrow.

After the mandatory fight between Ruffnut and Tuffnut (for once focusing more on giving something to the other instead of taking it away), they compromised by spreading the book on the table between them and going through it together. Hiccup just busied himself with the decently sized chicken he was eating away at.

When the book passed on towards Astrid, Hiccup gathered all of his courage to ask her if she wanted to read it together as it was apparent that they were the last ones left (Fishlegs having memorized the book a long time ago) to which she slid the book towards him. With a gruff reply of 'read it' and not a single glance towards him she stood up and left, the others quickly catching on and running after her leaving Hiccup alone with the manual at the table.

They really did not even have to say anything; it was more than apparent to him just where they considered his place to be on the Viking social ladder.

Figuring that he may as well read the book that had been so unceremoniously passed to him, Hiccup gathered several more candles and pushing his half-finished plate off to the side began to read.

It was clear from the start that Vikings were not too interested in actually writing stuff down during the first generation of dragon attacks, as the first few lines of many entries were filled with sections like 'just hammer away at its head' or 'extremely dangerous, kill on sight', usually followed by simply drawn images of Vikings hacking off a dragon's head or being attacked by the multitudes of methods available to said dragons – images which even he could tell were drawn more for the sake of telling the story than to teach others about the dragons.

What really caught his attention while simultaneously causing shivers to run across his spine were the later sections which were composed mostly of single line additions at the bottom – obviously written in long after the original. Unlike the drivel written above, these lines contained within them concrete facts, in most cases followed by a much more detailed drawing of the dragon with all dangers clearly labeled along with what few weaknesses have been found over the ages. Be it the approximate number of quills a Nadder could shoot, or the maximum range of a Nightmare's shot of liquid fire, everything the Vikings knew about every dragon they knew of was summarized in this book.

Alone in the Meade hall with only a pair of candles lighting up the table he was sitting at, Hiccup could not stop his breath from hitching and his heart rate from shooting up every time he read words like 'capable of shooting through a doubly reinforced shield and spearing the Viking holding it at close ranges', or 'will continue burning long since the flesh it landed on had turned to ash'. Neither could he prevent his overeager mind from imagining just how the Vikings came across such information, the thoughts of which easily turned his complexion slightly green.

It was from these additions that he finally understood just how foolhardy he had been to go out of his way during dragon raids to find a dragon he could test his inventions against. Even if each dragon was half as dangerous as it was described, it was still nothing more than a miracle that he had managed to survive until now.

Perhaps that was why he did not feel like going to sleep at the moment – just knowing that he would be facing a dragon that was described as 'a better archer than most Viking hunters' with quills that could pierce just about anything at close range inside the training ring with nowhere to hide was turning his insides into lead. Heck, if what he read was correct, the Gronckle that he had nearly died against was tame in comparison to a deadly Nadder that he would be facing tomorrow!

How could Gobber even think about making them face a virtual avatar of death on just their second day of training!?

…Avatar of death eh?

The image of the Nightfury appeared in his mind along with its section within the dragon manual.

_'Nightfury – This avatar of death has never been seen, for anyone who has seen it has not lived to tell the tale. As the unholy offspring of lightning and death itself, it has been tasked with only one job – to bring more Vikings into the embrace of Hel. Unlike the other dragons it never attempts to steal food, for like the demon it is, it does not require it. It has the ability of shooting blue fireballs with an accuracy that none can surpass, leading some to say that the blue flames are spirits of the dead or perhaps shards of Hel flying swiftly towards their victims – just as impossible to dodge as death itself. If you manage to see it, your life is already forfeit because it has selected you as its next prey, and it does not allow anyone who has gazed at its terrible visage to live.'_

Somehow, the knowledge that he himself had already survived what was by far considered as _the_ actual avatar of death did nothing to decrease the anxiety he was feeling, which is why his heart nearly stopped when he heard movement nearby as Gobber made his way in.

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* * *

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He had been about to go to sleep when he remembered promising himself to talk to Hiccup before the end of the day. As such, knowing that putting such things off would only make the conversation more awkward and less helpful, Gobber rose back up and proceeded to make his way to Hiccup's room where he kept most of his designs and which now doubled as temporary sleeping quarters until Stoick came back and got around to re-building his house.

Still, he could not stop himself from feeling just a little bit vexed when he noticed light coming out of Hiccup's room. It was obvious that he was still awake and there was no reason not to proceed.

"Hiccup – ye still awake in there?"

"WA- Gobber?" It was obvious that Hiccup had not been expecting him. "Yes I'm still awake… Were you looking for something?"

"No, no lad. I just wanted to talk to you for a minute. Now I noticed that ye weren't exactly your normal self back at dragon training, so what's with that eh? Always thought you would have been jumping off the walls with excitement once Stoick let you go…"

For a moment it looked like Hiccup wasn't going to answer, but perhaps Gobber's disarming expression relaxed him a bit.

"It's just… I don't think I am all that suited to fighting dragons – heck you saw how I acted in the ring today right?"

"Don't say that lad. Everyone does badly during the first session – you definitely acted better than Ruffnut and Tuffnut, what with them not even noticing the dragon coming up on them in the midst of their fighting. Besides that's not what I meant and ya know it. You looked like death warmed over even before I let the dragon out of the cage. Was it because of what happened during the last raid?"

Strangely enough that seemed to cause Hiccup to panic for a moment before visibly calming down and replying. "Let's just say that I am really extra sure that I can't kill dragons – and I don't mean because of lack of training or something – I mean that if, completely hypothetically speaking, I had one lying tied up in front of me, I doubt I could bring myself to kill it"

And all of a sudden it dawned on Gobber the exact problem his apprentice was facing. Opening his mouth to reply he was surprised to notice Hiccup continuing with only a slight pause in between.

"I said as much to my dad, but you know him – once he makes up his mind on something, there is just no stopping him! It's like fate likes to play around with me, the very moment I finally decide to drop my foolish daydreams about fighting dragons is the moment when dad in all his infinite wisdom finally succumbs to my pleas and throws me off into dragon training! I mean I thought yesterday was bad what with the dragon and –" Hiccup stopped abruptly and swirled around in a panic to stare at Gobber who was quite lost as to what could have brought about that reaction. He had after all been there yesterday when the Nightmare had chased Hiccup halfway through the village.

After a moment's thought, he decided that it really did not matter. Whatever it was that happened yesterday during the dragon raid that had caused such a startling change in Hiccup, it was still obvious to Gobber just where the problem lay. Taking a seat to the left of Hiccup Gobber proceeded with the conversation that, frankly speaking, Stoick should be handling.

"It's what ya saw after the raid isn't it? If it was up to me you would never have seen something as gruesome as that, but it's not like you can hide from it forever" From the way Hiccup flinched, Gobber knew he hit the problem on the head.

"Ye take after your mother ye know – " and just like that Gobber could feel he had Hiccup's attention. " – she too was always sad about having to take the life of a dragon; considered them too beautiful or something – too full of life… Have to say I never quite understood her til I had to take care of the captured dragons, after which I have to agree with the both of you – something about them just makes you feel that they are more than just the mindless beasts we see them as…"

"But then again – " and here Gobber's voice took on a steel like quality " – I have sometimes found wolf packs to have a certain mystical quality about them as well, especially when you see one from afar during a hunting expedition; and yet ye wouldn't just lay down your weapons and accept having them kill you if they attack yer camp right?

"Same thing with the dragons really – they raid us for food, and we respond by fighting them off and looking for their nest to get them off our backs once and for all. It all falls down to a simple choice of survival – in the end it will be either us or them, and I hope you agree with me when I say I would much rather it be us that survived."

Taking Hiccup's continued silence as acknowledgement Gobber ruffled his apprentice's head and left after blowing out the candle flames. There really wasn't anything else left to say.

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* * *

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After Gobber left, Hiccup was once again left to himself with a mess of conflicting feelings. Partially he was glad for at least this small connection between him and his mother; but on the other hand if it wasn't for this he might have had a chance of being a Viking. Besides which, his mother had been able to put it all aside and kill dragons when needed… quite unlike him.

Then there was Gobber. While he was completely off about what had caused all this, Gobber was unnervingly right as to what was troubling him. Partially he agreed with his mentor's thoughts – but at the same time he doubted that he would be capable of killing a dragon – not when the first one he actually had a chance to… interact… with acted so human…

Perhaps it was just the Nightfury – after all, the other dragons acted so differently from it… And then he remembered that Nightfuries (if indeed there was more than one) were known to have caused more damage and deaths than almost the rest of the dragons combined.

He just didn't know what to think!

He could feel the onset of a major headache setting in and cursed. Flopping backwards onto his bed and attempting to stifle his thoughts in the hopes of getting at least some sleep before tomorrow's training; Hiccup pulled some furs over him and closed his eyes.

He would have a lot more time to think about all of this tomorrow – as long as he survived training.

And if he didn't, then all of it would not matter to him any longer anyway.

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* * *

**A/N**

… Well that turned out quite long as well – funny considering that just last chapter I said I would keep them to the 4-5k range…

That should teach me to make predictions for chapter length beyond my standard 4k+ preference.

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That's all from me,

Saienai


	15. 1st-14: Shackles of my Body

**~Ouroboros~**

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**1****st**** – 14. Shackles of My Body**

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I was lying on the ground inside my cove – the exact same cove I had first decided to live in when I had first come to this island was now my (temporary! Only temporary…) prison.

When I had first woken up I was able to push aside all the pain and aching that had taken residence within my body, and caught some fish from the pool. Even in the condition I was in it wasn't too difficult to capture ten or so decent sized fish as long as I took my time at it, which did wonders to fill up my empty and grumbling stomach. Waiting calmly for the fish to swim by was made difficult because the paw that I had nearly bitten through still sent stabs of pain every time I placed a bit of weight on it, but I did my best to ignore it. It would require at least an entire sun cycle for the lacerated tissue to heal back, and until that happened there was nothing I could do but dull the pain.

Of course I had to consume even more of my muscles to be able to move after my escape, but that was a small price to pay for survival – I had no questions about my life expectancy if I had not done that. Still, that left me about as well muscled as a newborn dragon. Perhaps I over-exaggerate – but sad to say, not by much.

Having sated my hunger, I knew that there was nothing to be done until at least several hours passed – enough for me to digest the fish and at least have enough nutrients in my body to start healing and rebuilding it.

Another sharp stab of pain from my chest caused me to groan and focus back on not breathing in too deeply. Although I had managed to instinctively harden the bones in my body before the impact after my fist fall – as witnessed by several shattered trees that I went through on my way down – I still had heavily bruised most of my ribs.

Still, that would have been acceptable and easy to heal if it wasn't for my panicked retreat afterwards. Having used all of my strength to just keep my body running meant that each time I crashed along the way had led to more dangerous injuries. Case in point – my three cracked ribs and nearly shattered shoulder. I could have very well died if I had not landed into the lake when I crashed down into the cove (the distance down being more than enough for that); and it was only luck that had prevented my wings from getting clipped or smashed and broken along the way, as without even the minimal strengthening that I usually use to protect them I could have very well ended up losing an entire wing.

_Not that it would have mattered…_

I flinched at that thought. The very first thing I did upon waking up was carefully check my body for the reason why I had been unable to maneuver properly in flight and had almost instantly stumbled across my tail, along with its single fin – the other having been sheared clean off either during the fall or sometime later.

I do not know what led me to catch something to eat and then find a place to curl up and rest afterwards, my mind was simply too numb to care. My life was over – it did not matter whether I succumbed to my multitude of injuries (as unlikely as it was), was found again by humans and killed (a chilling thought, and yet quite possible since I _had_ let the youngling escape with its life), went insane from wanderlust which now that my mind was clear of that pungent darkness was once more slowly approaching, or went insane from my loss of flight as all dragons are susceptible to.

As my mind subconsciously turned to healing my overstrained heart – possibly the second worst injury I had – I could not help but curse myself for holding out any hope in this situation. I was too young, if not in body then definitely in mind, and it showed now more than ever in my unwillingness to simply end my life.

I was scared alright!?

To older dragons death may seem as just another step in the cycle of rebirth, which perhaps was why they were capable of just taking that last step so easily – but I just couldn't do it.

Couldn't give up hope that all of this was just a nightmare that I would wake up from.

Or perhaps shake the fear that whatever came afterwards would be worse than the situation I was in.

Trying not to aggravate my wounds any more than I already have, I didn't even bother trying to get comfortable before closing my eyes and attempting to sleep. Healing always works faster without your mind's interference after the first time you consciously do it – your body knows better than you where to direct your energy; quite unlike most of the other skills which require conscious commands.

Perhaps it was just my hunger that had prevented my tail from healing…

_Oh the lies we tell ourselves to keep us going…_

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* * *

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I awoke to the sound of birds somewhere above me and the sight of the all too familiar cove. It took but a single moment to remember everything that had led to me coming back to what was once my home on this island, and a moment longer to realize that I was no longer feeling the sharp stabs of pain every time I took a breath.

From the sun's rays shining down upon my body and the state of my wounds I knew that I had slept for the remainder of the day as well as throughout the entire night. It had taken that long for both my body and my mind to mostly heal from the actions I forced them into after my awakening from the darkness. On the outside I likely still looked like I was still heavily injured – what with patches of scales missing and scabbed over gashes all over my body; but all of that was mostly superficial as my organs and skeleton structure that have taken heavy damage have healed themselves to an acceptable level. As long as I did not attempt to do any more serious stunts within the next few sun cycles, I knew that everything would be healed completely.

Well, everything except for my scales which would have to grow back naturally over the next few moon cycles… that, and…

My left tailfin – which I could still feel on my tail, even though the slight imbalance in weight told me otherwise.

With my good mood sufficiently destroyed I opened my eyes and looked at the single tail fin that had been covering my eyes from the glare of the sun above. The only thing left of the other tailfin was a deep scar running along the other side, the skin of which had closed in taut over the bones while I had been asleep – stretched so taut in fact that without the scales which would grow over the wound in time, I could easily spot the locations where my fin bones used to connect into.

By now I was hyperventilating. It was one thing, no matter how horrifying, to see my tail fin replaced by a gaping and bleeding wound – but it was another thing altogether to see the healed scar tissue that had replaced it. The fleeting hope that the fin would grow back was completely shattered, and any hopes of flight along with it.

Even as the darkness closed in on me again I could only focus on that single thought – _everything was over._

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* * *

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Perhaps it was the first sign of insanity that when I had woken up the next time I was giddy with excitement. Sometime during my dives between sleep and awake I had decided to teach myself how to fly with only a single tailfin – no matter how impossible my knowledge of flight told me that was.

The sun was already high in the sky when I picked myself up and went off to catch myself some fish. Too impatient to start flying again, I had only managed to catch a single fish before I couldn't take it any longer and proceeded to stretch out my muscles. While it would take a moon cycle or so with a proper diet to get back the musculature I had before, I was in much better shape than when I had first arrived on this island all those Cycles ago – I hadn't after all consumed enough to completely cripple my body.

_No, my ripped off tailfin was enough by itself to do that._

I forcefully pushed that thought down and with a running start jumped into the air – a picture perfect take off if I do say so myself. The next few wing beats were performed spectacularly before my tail once more sliced without resistance through the air and down below my body, causing me to perform a partial vertical loop and take drastic measures to prevent myself from landing on my back – possibly tearing at my wings.

The next few attempts were not any better than the first, though they were slowly turning out to be more and more frantic, complete with roars and guttural clicks of disappointment every time I was forced back down.

By now my muscles were screaming at me to stop, and I did – more out of surprise that my stamina had plummeted that low than because of their aching. Perhaps I had overestimated the condition of my body. Curling beside one of the trees within the cove I took a brief rest, absentmindedly feeling myself furling and unfurling my tailfin – the one that wasn't there.

The sun was halfway down from its pinnacle when I stood back up and made my way towards the water pool. This time there were no fish swimming close by, and all of a sudden it dawned upon me that considering the size of the pool before me, I might actually consume all the fish that lived within it in a course of a single moon cycle.

A strange sense of fear set in that I had never experienced before in my life. It seemed as if the walls of the cove were closing in on me – leaving the boundless skies above as the only method of escape – a method that was forevermore denied to me.

Not even thinking clearly I threw myself upwards towards the nearest stone wall, beating my wings to bring me as high as I could before I either lost control or crashed into the wall.

The later came first as I felt my claws attempting to dig their way into the rocky formation – trying to bring me just a little bit closer to the edge – just a bit closer to freedom. Releasing shrill cries of frustration I clawed at the stone beneath me with increasing desperation. It was a failure of course; my claws slipped downwards, blunting their razor sharp edge as they ground along the stone wall. I didn't care about that though – the walls all around me seemed to shrink my world into just this single cove that in itself seemed to shrink in on me – smothering me in its hold, much like the egg shell did when I had first gained consciousness. I broke out of that world in the end – shattering the eggshell and spilling out into the endless world outside. Now though… the endless cliffs holding me down to this small portion of the world seemed impossible to overcome.

Feeling myself slipping further I let out one last cry before pushing off and attempting to change my fall into an acceptable glide down – all my thoughts focused singularly on my flight, giving me a much needed reprieve from my fears. I was only partially successful, not having had time to properly align myself without the help of my tail – the landing was horribly inelegant, and yet it gave me hope. It had been a much better landing than the first few I had.

_Starving rabbit for a starving dragon and all that, but still…_

That thought made me remember just why I was trying to get out of the cove, and as the walls loomed over me once more I straightened out and searched for a place where the stone wall was lowest before positioning myself and running towards it, launching upwards when I was roughly two wing beats away from it.

This time I hit stone further up the wall, and proceeded to attempt to scramble my way upwards, cumulating with a similar failure to the first try. The landing however turned out to be worse than before as I came to a stop with my face plowed into the ground – my legs having folded down under me from the speed I was moving combined with their currently weak muscles.

I tried one more time, but out of terror at my situation jumped upwards much too early, causing myself to lose control before even reaching the wall I was aiming towards and crashed down into the ground instead. It didn't matter that much though, even before this last attempt I knew that I was not getting out that easily.

Giving up for now (and it was definitely only 'for now' – I was going to make it out if it was the last thing I did!) I pushed down the strange fear of the cove around me that I had developed. With it gone I could feel my empty stomach roiling inside me along with the now constant aching from my muscles. Standing back up was much harder than before, and I could not afford to strengthen them to make it easier on myself – for at least half of the next moon cycle I would have to abstain from strengthening my body so as not to cause irreversible harm to myself through getting my body… addicted… to being strengthened, which as I had been taught could easily lead to not being able to move without it.

_Not that it matters to me – doesn't it?_

Plowing on with my aching muscles I made my way to the pool and crouching down attempted to at least catch some fish. Luckily for me a small school of them was swimming by and three quick bites downwards resulted in a single decent sized salmon each for the first two bites before the rest scattered away. I knew that the third was nothing more than wishful thinking, having learned that through experience during my second winter – but I was hungry and looking for a miracle.

It would be some time before the school felt safe enough to approach once more, so I decided to just lie here and –

The sound of a branch falling down the cove wall brought me out of my thoughts as I snapped my head upwards and slightly to the left, zeroing in on where the sound originated from. Out of everything that I had expected to have come to visit, the human hatchling was most definitely not it. Lying down frozen on one of the boulders along that section of the wall with his front-left paw reaching out in what must have been a failed attempt to grab hold of whatever had fallen down, he looked just about as frightened as he must have been a sun cycle ago when I held him under my claws.

Looking at the hatchling I wondered what exactly he was doing here. From his words before, it was possible that he had returned to finally kill me – perhaps bringing his sire along with him, though from the distinct lack of yelling and shouting my memories showed me these humans started their assaults with, perhaps not. Was he foolish enough to try and take me on by himself in some misguided attempt at gaining favour with his sire?

I wasn't sure what I would do if that was the case. It went against my beliefs to kill a hatchling – as my sire had taught me, it was forbidden to kill hatchlings and expecting mothers of soul bearers, no matter the reason; and I followed that belief even so far as to spare hatchlings of soul-less creatures as well whenever I could.

I waited some more for the human hatchling to make a move, either to flee or to attack me, but after a while the nagging pain from my legs snapped me out of my thoughts. Dismissing the human as inconsequential I shifted my weight off my damaged leg. Glancing down towards the water and spotting several stupid salmon that had decided to return so quickly, I made two rapid strikes towards them. With my mind still at least partially focused on the human I failed at getting either, and disgruntled at my inability to even focus properly when needed stalked off to rest, not even glancing back when I heard the hatchling scrambling about.

After finding a good position to sleep in I opened my eyes and glanced back towards the hatchling, only to capture his back retreating into the narrow opening partway up the wall to the right of where I had first seen it. While I could reach the opening, it was too narrow for me to fit through or even use as a ledge to jump up from.

Some part of me worried about being stuck inside a place with no way out – a place that I now knew was known to the humans that for some reason or another decided upon exterminating all the dragon races; but another part of me whispered that even if they came, they would just bring with them death – the same death that I was too scared to accept.

I closed my eyes.

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* * *

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The wind split against my wings as I soared above the clouds. The sun was still in its zenith above me, making the white clouds below me look almost as an endless ocean, only broken in places to reveal the deep blue of the actual ocean waters below. Folding down my wings I angled down, barely controlling my descent with my wing- and tail- fins.

The euphoric feeling of flight – of danger, and freedom – the knowledge that I am one of the few masters of the air capable of doing this, solidifies itself and I can no longer hold it in. Starting almost silently, my screech quickly gains volume and pierces through the world – telling everyone who can hear it that an eternal wanderer was making its signature attack run.

A few seconds before reaching the cloud layer below me I release a fireball and watch with satisfaction as it explodes after barely piercing the clouds, scattering them to the sides and replacing them with the blue-red fireball that begins to quickly dissipate – but not quickly enough as I plummet my way through it and down into the clouds below.

The world turns white as the thick fog around me blocks my view, and I fly through it, subconsciously dodging the rock outcroppings that seem to pop up along my path. The euphoria I had felt what must have been only moments ago is gone, replaced by anxiety – something about the white fog around me is _wrong_…

As if in response to my thoughts the world seems to invert its colors, and I find the flame of my mind – beautiful and mesmerizing blue of the deep sky when there are no clouds blocking your view – floating within the pitch black fog.

Overwhelming terror grips at my heart as I feel something approaching me, and I know – know with certainty bordering on wanderlust in its final stages that I must escape before whatever is hiding inside the fog around me gets its claws into me, chaining me down to insanity. My wings open back up and with a roar of exertion I force myself to fly. I do not know towards where, but as long as it takes me away from whatever is behind me, it does not matter.

The black fog thins out and I fly out of it towards a single island surrounded by the fog into which I dare not return. There is but one way to go, but looking at the caverns leading further into the long extinct fire mountain I can't help but think that proceeding onwards is just as dangerous as returning to the fog behind me.

I fly into the nearest cave.

Left, right, straight, straight once more then left again… I lose count of the number of passageways I cross leading off into the darkness, with me flying along the only the only path lit by an eerie white glow. Something within me screams out that this is because everything is inverted – begging me to turn around and take one of the other paths – but I do not listen, or more specifically, I cannot hear its frantic cries. The whiteness around me is deafening.

The tunnel opens up into a large cavern and I can't prevent a sense of deja-vu that passes through me. I have been here before… I glance around to try and remember and spot the strange black fog below me, covering the entire base of the cavern. The world is back to its normal coloring, and yet the fog below still retains its chaotic black coloring. Primal terror grips at me as I make the tightest turn I can without ripping apart my wings… and feel something _burning_ behind me.

Turning back I feel my eyes grow wide and my entire body numb over – my left tail fin had caught on fire and was burning up – burning and destroying any chances of my escape along with it.

With a screech of terror – a screech within which anyone could hear my hopelessness – I feel my tail dip under me as I start falling…

Falling towards the black fog below.

I fight against it, but there is nothing I can do.

Still, I try harder.

Somehow, my attempts break me from my uncontrolled spin and into a dive – one that I know I cannot get out of.

And then the dark fog below me spreads away and for a moment I feel relief – relief that turns into even worse panic as I realize why it did so.

Below me I can see several tall stalagmites arranged in a mocking curve of a dragon's jaw – with one of the two largest teeth aligned perfectly underneath me.

There is no time to do anything, no time to try and break myself out of my fall – even if my body wasn't frozen in terror. I cannot break my eyes away from the tip of the stalagmite underneath me. Cannot think of anything except-

_There are only a few body-lengths left until – _

The tip of the stalagmite touches my chest, right in the middle of the spot where for some reason my scales seem to be missing – but I do not get any time to ponder this as I can feel it pushing inwards…

My body burns with pain as it is pierced completely through, impaled upon the stalagmite it could not avoid. As the flame of my mid flickers and begins to die off I feel some measure of relief knowing that at the least it is all over…

With death will come a release from this –

No more terror – no more pain…

And then, as the dark fog closes in on me, I realize just how wrong I was.

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* * *

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I wake up in the darkness, and even though my eyes can still clearly see the cove under the pale moonlight of the goddess, I can't help but jerk my head around in a vain attempt to find the darkness that had almost devoured me. Pointless really, because except for me, some fish, and perhaps several birds there is no one else within the cove.

It takes me a few moments to calm down and lie back onto the grass in an attempt to sleep, but not until I roll to the side and twist my head around to check on my chest into which only moments ago the stalagmite like tooth had been buried into. The patch of missing scales along with the scar and dried blood almost causes me to freak out before I remember that there is a perfectly normal explanation for how I got it.

Well, perhaps not normal, but definitely natural.

Turning back and curling into myself I close my eyes and attempt to sleep again. With the amount of adrenaline flowing through me it does not surprise me that sleep is long coming – it had been many Cycles since I had last dreamt.

Just before falling back into the embrace of the goddess of the moon I hear words along the wind – or perhaps it was nothing more than a fragment of my soul's past memories crossing my mind.

:: _so close…_ ::

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* * *

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I wake up once more to the dull pain of my muscles. In hindsight it was not a good idea to have strained them so much right after they had been healed, and I promise myself to take it easy today – catch enough fish for my body to continue healing and then rest some more; any more attempts at flight would be postponed to tomorrow.

Throughout the entire day I do little else than attempt to fish and lie around. I had been expecting the human hatchling to return, possibly with others to end my life, but unfortunately I was not disturbed. There was little to do, and I found myself thinking more and more about the events that brought me here. Thinking about where I went wrong, and what I could have changed to not end up like this.

The next thing I knew, it was already dark. Trying to remember what I did between the last point I remember and now was useless, and it scared me more than anything else. I did notice that one of the nearby trees had a large section of its bark clawed away, along with a portion of its actual trunk; and that sent a chill down my spine – the claw marks were my size, and yet I do not remember placing them there.

I turned around and walked away so as not to see them, even though I knew that that would do nothing to solve the problem.

And so another sun cycle passed. I fell asleep still wondering about what was going on with me – after all how could I remedy my situation if I did not understand what was happening in the first place?

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* * *

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This time my muscles did not pain me as I woke up – while I was once more ravenously hungry, it was clear that my body had healed itself to a point I could attempt to fly again.

Strangely enough I feel almost peaceful – the emotions I felt during the course of the last few days pleasantly blurry in my mind.

Making my way over to the pool I wonder how much longer it would take for me to begin to feel the insatiable (in my condition) desire for the skies which would mark the first step towards insanity. I fear for that moment, and yet at the same time it would be a relief to finally get it over with.

_Perhaps it was this waiting that would drive me insane first…_

Leaning down towards the waters below I searched for fish within striking distance, but most of them were too far to offer even a remote chance of success. I do not know how long I waited, for some reason the fish seemed to be avoiding coming close, but some time later the nearly still water surface caught my attention and looking into it I gazed into dull green eyes that seemed so out of place on the face of the black dragon staring back at me.

There was no blazing spirit within them, no pride – not even sadness or anger at its inability to fly could be seen within them. Worse still, there was no hope. These were the eyes of a broken creature – eyes that clearly showed that everything it had lived for had been ripped away from it, leaving nothing behind but a being whose heart still beat, but whose mind had long since died.

They were my own eyes, and staring down into the calm waters below I could barely recognise myself staring back.

I should have expected it, after all there was nothing new that I could see within them that I did not already feel inside me, and yet I recoiled away – my crippled tail curving around to slap at the water surface with its single fin, causing the waters to ripple and breaking apart the image that had captivated me. My stomach rumbled again as if to remind me of my need to eat something, but any hunger that I felt was long since gone. Trudging back with my tail dragging behind me I laid down behind some rocks along the side of the cove where the high walls provided enough shade to lessen the glare of the sun.

I now knew what the other dragons who have been in my position have felt to make them accept death so easily – I had been wrong; anything was better than living a cursed existence trapped inside the body I had seen in the calm waters of the pool.

My mind turned back to that single lesson that my sire gave me the last time I had seen him – when he had burned the cave in which I spent my second winter. He warned me that every dragon needed to know when to accept death, be it from age, injury, or even through battle. Those that do not are cursed to a fate worse than death – fated to live on as creatures of their instincts; their thoughts and minds sealed away, watching and unable to do anything as their body slowly reverts into that of a beast.

I had not taken it seriously then, but now…

I can still remember that feeling of _helplessness_ as my body moved heedless of what I wanted the moment that human hatchling released me – released me after I had come to accept death. I was able to break out of it that time, but I wasn't sure I could again – and I knew that without flight it would inevitably come again.

Now that I think about it, perhaps that was what the blank in my memory from last sun cycle was.

If I had the ability to, I would have stopped my heart here and now, but I was far too young to do something that went that far against my body's instincts. For a moment I toyed with the idea of trying to slash my way through my neck and bleeding out – that or just trying to claw out my heart the old fashioned way; but I doubted that in the state I was in I had enough willpower to actually go through with it.

So instead I just continued to lie there, waiting for my body to simply waste away from the lack of food and drink. If I was lucky, it wouldn't take too long.

The world blurred around me as time lost its meaning, in an emotionally detached state I noted the pangs of hunger I felt – my body having long since used up yesterday's fish to further heal itself and was begging for more – but all of that no longer mattered to me.

With full conscious control over my body – which I am still far away from – I would literally be able to put it into a suspended state to wake back up even after several full cycles without food or water. With only the subconscious control all of us are born with, I could last perhaps half a moon cycle or less in the same conditions. At the moment though I was stopping all of that, meaning that in the condition my body was in, it wouldn't even be a full sun cycle before it could no longer support me – leading to unconsciousness, soon followed by death.

I do not know how long I stayed in this state, but I knew it wouldn't be much longer. Just a little bit longer and then… death.

For a moment my resolve shook before the image of my dull eyes staring back at me flashed through my mind, reaffirming my decision.

Subconsciously loosening the hold on my mind and watching as it began to slowly sink down into the abyss below – the realm of the goddess of the moon, and the last resting place for our souls – I felt my mind's flame slowly begin to go out. This time however, the darkness I was sinking into did not push at me or attempt to sink itself into my soul – instead it curled around me, gentle in its embrace, so unlike that cursed fog that had kept me in captivity for so long.

From my memories before closing my eyes for the last time, my end would happen during the moment when the sun goddess relinquished her hold upon the world. It seemed… right somehow that the goddess of the moon would embrace me at the same time in both mind and body.

_Not long now… _I thought as I fell further into the eternal abyss.

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* * *

**A/N**

Just covering Toothless' days alone in the cove. Hope you all like/approve. Next chapter will be out same time as always.

I have been asked if this is a retelling or a different story, and in case I did not make it exactly clear with the prologue I will make it clear now: The story is going to be drastically different once a certain point passes. There will be minor variations that will grow in size starting from the forbidden friendship scene and cumulating in a drastic veer off from the original story line somewhere around just before the final battle. That will in and of itself mark the end of the first third of the story – the plot of the entire story having already been written down (and requiring me to just flesh it out from bullet points into actual storytelling)

Still, I can see where the confusion could have stemmed from considering that so far the story is almost a complete retelling except for the added Toothless POV scenes + backstory.

If any of you have questions / comments, leave a review and I will PM back.

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Saienai


	16. 1st-15: From the Other Side

**~Ouroboros~**

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**1****st**** – 15. From the Other Side**

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The world was eerily silent when he woke up, and that by itself puts him on guard. Looking around he can tell that he was in his room within the house he and his father lived in. It had been several months since they had to rebuild it and he was still not used to it – although it was built the same way as the previous one, there were some subtle differences that stuck out to him – too many planks of wood along the wall, a certain 'freshly cut' wooden smell still lingering within the house…

His mother's now burned up cape missing from the hooks near the door…

But none of that was what brought him on guard. Several months in dragon training had given him a good feel for danger, especially after he got his mind straightened out and realized just how… necessary this training was. Unfortunately that was after Tuffnut's death – but no one could have done anything about it, and at least it got all the others to nearly redouble their efforts at training.

It had been that sense that allowed him to survive his encounters with the Devil, and that same feeling was now screaming out at him. Something was wrong, and as had been pounded into him by Gobber, there was nothing worse than to feel something off and not know what was causing that feeling.

Scrambling out of his bed he didn't even bother to throw on a vest, even as his hand grabbed at the axe leaning against the corner of his bed. He carefully moved through the unsurprisingly empty house – Stoick having likely not returned home after the fiasco of the last raid – not his fault for the first time. At the doorway outside he paused with his hand on the handle. His feeling of unease had intensified to levels where it was impossible to ignore.

Taking a deep breath he opened the door and rushed out, ready to take on whatever was there.

The first thing that hit him was a literal wall of sound. There simply was no explanation for why the cacophony of screams, yells, and roars had not been heard through the walls – by all rights the house should have been vibrating from the noise – but now was not the time to wonder about such minor matters.

Even though the last dragon raid had been just a day ago, it was obvious from the dragons filling the air that they had decided to return – and in much greater force than before. No matter – the village would survive as it always had.

Running off towards the nearest roars he hefted his axe and prepared for battle. From the looks of it there were over twice the number of dragons as compared to the amount that normally came during raids, and he could only thank the gods that the Nightfury that he had released in his temporary bout of insanity (the same one that had taken off the moment he did, not even bothering to kill him before flying away) had not been seen since.

Skidding along the cobblestones he pushed everything away as he took in the battle before him – two Vikings facing off against a group of Nadders. Steeling his resolve the way his father taught him before the last training session against that Devil he ran in, not even bothering to yell out a battle cry that he always found to be good only for alerting the dragons to his position. Even as a Viking warrior he was… different – but no longer in a bad way.

Luck was on his side this time as the Nadders did not see him until he had his axe lodged within the first one's throat. The other three turned around upon hearing the gurgling death cries, allowing the other two Vikings to narrow the distance between them and take down two more, leaving only one Nadder against the three of them.

Pulling his axe out he prepared to rush the last dragon when the ground shook under his feet and his instincts went wild. Subconsciously he noticed that the other two Vikings and the last Nadder were no longer there, but that did not matter. What mattered to him was the dragon that had landed behind him. Turning around to gaze into the open maw of a monstrous Nightmare, he knew he was not getting out of this alive. Letting his muscles sag in defeat he could only utter one thing before the liquid fire consumed him:

"Oh Hel take y– "

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* * *

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Hiccup woke up with a yell, flailing his arms against the material that seemed to be suffocating him. Still half asleep he rolled off his bed and onto the floor, his arms too tied up to be of any use to break the fall.

His head hitting the wooden floor stunned him for a moment, the pain shooting through his head being enough to finish waking him up and causing his scream to abruptly cut off. His heart was still frantically attempting to escape from his chest, and for a moment he just lay there blinking away the white stars swimming through his vision while trying to understand where he was.

It took a moment longer for him to successfully calm down enough to realize his awkward position which he quickly attempted to rectify by freeing himself from the furs that had tangled him up as tightly as his own bola had tied up the Nightfury before he released it. Tossing the furs back onto his bed Hiccup looked himself over before making his way out of his room to wash away the sweat coating his body.

The nightmare he had just experienced was much more vivid than those he usually had, and even now he could feel the phantom pain that had woken him up just moments before. He shivered at that thought. Even though it was only in a dream, the burning sensation over his entire body just seemed so real…

His breath hitched and he almost screamed as pain needled its way through his chest before realizing that in his dazed state he had unconsciously started scratching at the still healing wounds along his chest, which were now complaining about their treatment. Carefully untying the bindings Hiccup sighed in relief to see that the bindings over his wounds prevented him from opening them back up, otherwise he would have had to spend even more time taking care of them, instead of just grabbing a new sheet and wrapping it around his chest again after the mandatory bath.

That was of course the easy part of the day. After that would come dragon training, and he sincerely hoped to get through it today without coming as close to death as yesterday. Although if what he read about Nadders was true, it would perhaps be more prudent to just hope to survive instead.

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* * *

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I woke up earlier than usual for the second sun cycle in a row – early enough that the sun goddess had yet to rise high enough to shine through the cracks of the door of my cave, but it would not be long now as the darkness of her sister had already retreated.

The human that I heard referred to as Gobber by the others was once more going around the Kill-ring (the human name for this place) and checking the doors of the caves I and the others inhabited. Afterwards he would come around again to pass some food to us as well. I used to wonder just how far I and the others here had fallen to accept food and be cared for like a newborn hatchling, but over time I have come to terms with it. It wasn't like the humans would let us out to hunt for ourselves, and even though I had come to accept this life I knew that if I was given a chance I would try and escape.

Two sun cycles ago I heard the humans bringing in a _RunaEfai_ and lock it up in one of the caves. Something within me wanted to attempt to free it from the darkness that I could still feel surrounding its mind, but I knew from the last few Cycles when the same thing had happened that the dark fog was too strong, even this far from the nest. Over time as _skylust_ began to erode its way into its mind the _RunaEfai_ may break out of the tumor like fog surrounding it, but it usually took over three moon cycles for it to accumulate to that level and I knew that this particular _RunaEfai_ did not have that much time.

I felt sad for it, knowing that it would likely die without experiencing even a single moment of freedom, but there was truly nothing I could do for it besides pray to the twin goddesses that it would break free before the final blow brought about its death. All I could do was focus on myself.

A sun cycle ago Monzis, the _AngaEcor_ in the cave alongside mine was let out to fight against a group of human hatchlings, and if things progressed the same ways as the last two Cycles, it would be my turn next.

As always, I would play around with them some and then go back here once more. The best part of course was the chance to stretch my wings more frequently than twice a month that I was… allowed… to.

Oh, I knew the purpose for this – I was nowhere near as naïve as Monziswas, unlike her I was much older – old enough to remember the time before the darkness consumed our entire tribe. She thought that every time they let her out was just a game – a tussle with the other hatchlings.

Sometimes I envy her for her naïve thoughts, other times I pity her – she had been caught under the darkness even before her hatching, which had the unfortunate effect of forever leaving her mind in a hatchling state.

Me? I knew that the humans were using us to train their young to fight against dragons – teach them how to attack and defend against us…

Teach them how to kill us.

I knew perfectly well that I was in fact helping them become better and more efficient at killing my own kin.

Perhaps humans, with their strange beliefs would consider this as betrayal – a word I learned only through watching and hearing their interactions before the descent of my entire tribe into the darkness.

Betrayal – such a foreign concept to me and my kin… At least I would like to think so.

No, I do not consider what I do as betrayal, instead I do what any other dragon in my place would have done – I accept my place as a 'training tool' for these humans and carefully guide them to become better at killing my own kin – for that is the only way that I can help release my tribe from the grasp of the darkness consuming them. My tribe in a sense that it could have been – as the second oldest elder in the tribe I should have become _CoiraRei_ after the previous _CoiraRei_ was killed defending our tribe, but considering the darkness that took over mere moments later it did not matter.

After all, what was a tribe without its people; and what was a _CoiraRei_ without a tribe for it to protect.

But even so, I would do right by those that could have been a part of my tribe and break them out of the darkness, even if I have to take part in killing them for that to happen.

Death and rebirth were after all infinitely more preferable to the atrocious acts that were inflicted upon our minds and souls by _IT_, as I have started to call the darkness. I do not remember ever seeing what _IT_ really is, for whatever _IT_ is, _IT_ covers itself in the cursed darkness both in the real world and the river of souls; but somehow the name seems to fit. Just like the cursed insanity that we all fear, _IT_ wrests control over ourselves away and consumes our minds – turning us into nothing more than beasts under its control…

…And all dragons would agree that death is preferable to the cursed life of a _NaaiNe_.

As it was, I knew that I had only a couple more Cycles before I needed to take my own life as well – the chances to stretch my wings, few and far between as they were, were only capable of holding off _skylust_ for so long. It had already been four Cycles since I had been released from the darkness – released and thrust into a different kind of captivity. No matter how much I try to hold on to my sanity, the short flights I am allowed are incomparable to true flight in the boundless expanse of the sky, and it gnaws away at me. It was slowly becoming harder and harder to ignore that itch in the back of my mind – still easy enough that I did it subconsciously and only felt it if I concentrated on it, but that would not last for much longer.

Some dragons like Ael-Lea, the _AttaEcor_ caged several caves away from mine are capable of holding off insanity for quite a long time due to its twin mind providing a much stronger hold to fight off _skylust_ – it had been living in these confines for several Cycles before I was captured, and during the times we converse I can tell that even though Ael finds the Kill-ring even more constricting than I do, together with Lea its mind is still clearer than mine, though of course not untouched by _skylust_.

Others like the petite nameless _AiRei_ from the Gronn hatch-group and even Monzis were small enough that even the small confines of the Kill-ring we were kept in were expansive enough to sate _skylust's _thirst. I was unfortunately just a tad too large for that.

No matter though, I had long ago come to terms with the idea that I would die either by the claws of those I taught or through my own mind once the itch of _skylust_ rose to levels where I had to consciously hold it down, representing that my mind was too close to shattering.

I had seen the _NaaiNe_ born from one of my race that was held here, both through the cracks in the doors of my cave and within the realm of the mind. While the feral one winged beast that I saw in the physical world was horrific to see with _its_ mindless eyes searching for prey, it was the sight of its mind that destroyed any lingering doubts about death being the better choice.

Everything that had at one point represented the dragon – the flames of energy surrounding its mind, the layers of thought and memory surrounding the soul, and of course the soul itself, seemed to have turned in on itself and burned itself out, leaving behind nothing but a black sphere that seemed to absorb light around it. A black sphere within which the soul must still be, stuck in a state between life and death – its mind gone but the connection between mind and body twisted beyond recognition into a chain to keep the soul from falling down into the realm of the moon goddess; back into the cycle of rebirth.

A _NaaiNe _– a burned out mind… An apt name for a being whose very existence was twisted away from a soul carrier and into that of a soul cage.

Worse than seeing the black sphere that took place of the mind of a dragon that has fallen into insanity was the knowledge that it had once been someone I knew from my tribe before the darkness consumed us – the body of the _NaaiNe_ was certainly old enough for it to have been born before that. Now that its mind was gone it was impossible to know of course – I couldn't even tell if it had been male or female without coming close enough to check the physical body, not that _it_ would ever let me approach _it_. What truly scared me though was the memory of the hatchlings of my own eggs and the knowledge that the fallen one could have been one of them – the knowledge that one of them could have been thrust into this cursed existence.

To be dead, and yet alive – to simply exist and not be allowed to continue on…

No, I would accept death a thousand times over to prevent myself from turning out like _it_, and if I could I would grant death to _it_ so as to quicken the cursed soul's return to the cycle of rebirth.

By the eternal abyss, even the return to the darkness would be preferable to that cursed life.

_Slightly more preferable perhaps, but preferable nevertheless._

That thought having run its course, I settled down to wait. It wouldn't be long now before I was let out to train this current batch of dragon killers.

I may forgive them for what they must do, but that does not mean that I must like them and praise them for it.

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* * *

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The human named Gobber was standing just to the side of the doors of my cave and I knew that any moment now I would be let out. I wondered briefly on how I should make my appearance – slamming my way out with a screech, or possibly releasing a cone of flame into the doors so as to both slam them open from the pressure while simultaneously providing a show of my power by having the doors be burning as I made my way out.

In the end, I decided to just slam my way out – it was a hatchling's mistake to use any of your limited weapons when you did not need to. Especially considering that even with my precise controls over my body each shot of my flames used up about as much magnesium as I collected from the fish over the course of a couple of sun cycles. In a way it was fortunate that I had been captured instead of a youngling _MaegNur_, as a youngling would not have been able to collect enough magnesium for its flames without access to the seawaters surrounding these islands.

Besides, during the first lessons I taught there were usually wooden barricades around to give the illusion of fighting inside caverns for the humans, so my grand entrance would probably not even be noticed in any case.

Hearing the grating sound of the doors unlocking I focused my mind and strengthened my bones and scales. Slamming into the door would not harm me, but from now until the end of the lesson I would keep my bones strengthened. I was sure that the hatchlings I was teaching would not be able to actually hurt me – definitely not on their first foray against an elder such as myself, but I have not lived this long by taking chances unless I absolutely had to.

Strengthening my muscles would come later – the mindless dragons during the raids never strengthened their bodies, and if I could teach these hatchlings to fight evenly against me when I increased my strength and reflexes, they would do well during the raids. For now though, I doubted they could keep up with me even at my natural strength and reflexes.

Slamming my way through the door I jumped up onto the barricades littering the entire Kill-ring and spreading my wings leapt into the air. The humans can think whatever they want about my behaviour, but I needed to proverbially scratch at that itch before I could start my lesson. Gracefully performing a tight turn as I neared the top side of the Kill-ring I grabbed at it with my claws and proceeded to run along it before jumping backwards and beating my wings once to fly paws up – a difficult maneuver that even an experienced _OiraRae_ would be hard-pressed to perform to say nothing of a _MaegNur_ such as myself, especially in the tight space such as this. Then again it is not a proper comparison, I have had over f1r12 Cycles to practice before the darkness came; and while I can fly better than most adult _OiraRae _I have seen during my long life_,_ an elder _OiraRae_ with similar experience would be able to fly circles around me.

Rolling over to right myself I landed right down in the middle of the Kill-ring upon one of the barricades.

Time to get serious.

_Lesson start –_

Opening my mind I sensed the humans around me. While most Dragonkin know how to hide their souls if they want to be stealthy, and most prey does not have souls that we can use to track them to begin with, most humans are not even aware of their own minds – not to mention the training required to sense other minds or hide their own.

Focusing, I allow myself to see both the physical world and the realm of the river of souls, which I align and layer over each other. Excessively taxing, quite limited by distance, and resulting in a headache like no other after a while from keeping the two views aligned; but so damn useful when searching for that wayward hatchling of your tribe… Or, considering the current situation, the human hatchlings hiding behind the wooden barricades surrounding me.

Seven ice shards in total – the coldest and _sharpest_ of which was outside the Kill-ring – Gobber. The other five – no six, two of them were so close together I almost mistook them as one, were of varying coldness; looking more like smooth frozen orbs of ice than the jagged ice crystals resembling spherical quartz growth of the older humans. These were all within the Kill-ring, and were quite obviously the hatchlings I was to be teaching this Cycle.

Zeroing in on the closest one – female from her scent – I jumped in between the barricades she had been cautiously stalking through and landed directly in front of her. Letting off a squawk of warning I opened up my flame ducts to release the minimal amount of the magnesium rich mixture needed and prepared to let out a cone of fire at her. Watching carefully to make sure I did not accidentally kill off the first hatchling to cross my path, I let off the blinding white flames at the spot she had been at mere moments ago as she dodged away into a side passage. I was quite pleasantly surprised at her reaction time, although I did hesitate for a fraction of a moment before firing to make sure she got away safely, I really did not need to – had I instantly fired off she would have ended up with only superficial burns.

Quite good for a hatchling during its first lesson against me.

Jumping into the intersection I prepared my quills and shot three at her position, even though I knew she had already left the line of fire by jumping into another adjourning passageway. It was more of my way of congratulating her for choosing the correct escape route than an attack; not that she would ever know that.

Ignoring the direction she went off into, I focused instead on the others and proceeded along the path she had come from. Two of the hatchlings were there, and it would be wrong of me to not greet them.

The moment I spotted the hatchlings – siblings most likely from the similarity of their souls, though even siblings shouldn't have souls as close as these two did – I once more let off a squawk of warning and rushed at them. They were quite obviously not nearly as good as that female I met, and I felt a moment of disappointment as they ran screaming away from me, splitting off into separate side passages as soon as they could.

Coming to a stop I momentarily debated about pursuing them before deciding against it – It was only the start of the lesson and I had several other hatchlings to meet before continuing to play around with these two. It wouldn't be fair otherwise. Jumping onto an adjacent barricade I made my way along to one of the three remaining hatchlings. I was not trying to be subtle about it, so I was not expecting him to yell out in surprise at my appearance on top of one of the wooden barricades next to him.

The correct action when facing a dragon of my species (besides attacking in a group from multiple directions) is to always have something ready to block the quills; which while slightly less dangerous than the magnesium flames, more than made up for that with the amount of them available. As such when the hatchling below me raised his shield and hefted his hammer (possibly to throw at me, though I did not spare him a chance to find out) I rewarded him with ten quills – three of which I specifically targeted at the shield while the rest pierced deeply into the wooden barricade behind him.

From his panicked glance at the quills stuck in his shield I knew he would not forget this lesson any time soon.

"I am beginning to question your teaching methods!"

I snickered at that which came out as several short chirps before checking the position of the last two hatchlings. One of them seemed to have joined up with the female, while the other…

"… so I was wondering, did we just run out of space in the dragon manual – because I couldn't find anything on Nightfuries…"

Was chatting up Gobber?

Oh this just would not do. Lack of attention when there was a predator around was a sure-fire way of being eaten. I hopped along the barricades towards him, not even bothering to keep out quiet or out of sight.

"… what they eat, or how to approach them – perhaps in another book somewhere?"

Wow. Just wow. I actually froze and my momentary lack of attention caused my view to shatter in two again and making me to lose track of the hatchlings as their souls were no longer aligned with the real world that the eyes of my body saw. The human was so completely oblivious that he did not even notice me staring at him from atop the nearest barricade. What was worse was that he wasn't even behind cover!

I considered my options. This lesson had to be as harsh as I could make, while at the same time not leave him crippled. What to do, what to do…

_Ah yes…_

I open my jaw slightly in a smirk – Perfect.

Releasing nearly five times the amount of fuel as I had against that female hatchling I tightened my blast of fire into a single beam, and aiming at the axe that he was so carelessly waving about turned it into a splatter of molten metal coating the wall behind him. It took quite a bit of concentration to get the fire that hot and keep it tight enough for the energy not to dissipate; but while a young _MaegNur_ may have very well fried itself, as an elder dragon it was well within my capabilities.

The hatchling's stunned expression as he whipped about to face me before glancing at the piece of burnt wood in his paws almost causes me to break down in laughter. That would of course completely destroy the image I was trying to portray, so instead I move my tail into full view and spread the quills in an obvious show of what was coming next.

"Come on Hiccup – it's like yer not even trying!"

The hatchling was obviously not completely stupid, as the moment I spread my quills he scrambled off towards the nearest barricades. I could have simply let him go, but I really wanted to make sure the lesson stuck in his mind – or perhaps I was simply having too much fun by that point; in any case, shooting three quills at a time I made sure to aim at the point just behind his fleeing paws, giving a very convincing illusion that he was outrunning my shots. By the time he disappeared from my sight behind the barriers there must have been a _moonfull_ or so of my quills stuck deep in the ground.

I had used up perhaps a third of my quills by now, but the rest would be more than enough to last the duration of this lesson and with enough food I could replace all of them within half a moon cycle at most. In any case, if that did not teach him to focus during battle, it would be better to put him out of his misery with a quill between the eyes to spare him the virtually guaranteed and possibly gruesome death during an actual battle.

I started to make my way back in, but my sight flashed white and staggering along the top of the barrier I lost my balance, falling in with a squawk. It felt as if someone was driving my quills slowly into my head, and it was all I could do to just lie there as the world swam around me. Having been surprised into releasing my dual view of the physical and soul worlds without any preparations was taking its toll on me.

Fortunately the hatchlings did not come across me while I was in such a condition as I couldn't even keep strengthening my body from the pain – which meant that a well-placed hit could very well have killed me. Would have been quite ironic to be felled due to the after-effects of one of my best techniques.

_Oh f-_

A lengthy tirade of human swear words in all fourteen languages I knew, each laden with the pain I was feeling followed, which strangely enough made things just a touch more bearable.

As the pain lessened and the world righted itself I shakily stood back up and strengthening my bones again looked around. I could no longer clearly see the locations of the hatchlings and with their smell crisscrossing all around it was impossible to track them – and I was definitely not starting my technique back up again. After a quick comparison of my options I decided to just wonder aimlessly around and see who would pop up. A surprisingly good strategy considering there were six of them that I could stumble across and the kill ring was quite small even with all the barricades providing places to hide.

Funnily enough the first one I stumbled upon was that same Hiccup that I had so successfully played with last. Or perhaps it would be better to say that he stumbled across me as he simply walked into my path from one of the sides. Spotting me he froze for a moment before making an about-turn and retreating hastily back into the path he came from.

Naturally I leapt after him with a grin on my face.

"Oh gods why me? Why is it always me!?"

Noticing he was about to run off into a side passage I released a blast of fire that carried past him and onwards along the passageway before breaking to the sides upon encountering yet another barricade. Letting him go I looked at the other passageways available and picking one continued on. There was other prey around.

Several turns later I suddenly felt like someone was watching me. Slowing down my pace I started looking carefully into every path I came across, and yet as a hammer flew within inches of my head I knew that I had messed up. It was only the horrible aim of what looked like the final hatchling that saved me from a bad concussion, even with my hardened skull. Making a show of glancing in the direction where the hammer flew off into I released a crackle of laughter and aimed several quills in his direction.

"You did not just laugh at me!"

Dodging under my quills the apparently angered hatchling grabbed at my quills stuck in the barricade behind him and wrestling them out of the wood proceeded to throw them at me; most of them missing or hitting me along their length to cause no harm whatsoever. With another crackle of laughter I rushed at him.

The hatchling must have understood his position as he paused mid-throw and proceeded to run off, with me – and more importantly my flames – directly behind him.

He must have managed to scramble off while my view was blocked by my flames as the next thing I knew the passageway I was running along was empty causing me to skid to a stop.

Now what?

My decision was taken away from me as the two sibling hatchlings ran in from the side and skid to a stop directly in front of me.

I couldn't see them because of my horn blocking my view, and couldn't yet smell them after my most recent release of fire – all I could smell at the moment was ash and that specific after-smell of my magnesium flames. My natural response of turning to the side so as to put them in my line of sight and the range of my quills was impossible to complete due to the constricting barricades around me.

"…Hide in their blindspot – remember, every dragon has one, so use it. Hopefully ya remembered to read the dragon manual and at least know where it is. Here's a hint – it's a place it cant _see_ you."

Slightly opening my jaw I came closer and slightly shook my head when I noticed that the two of them were busy trying to push each other into my line of sight than anything productive – like say attacking the exposed flesh under my jaw (the scales of which I had reinforced even further just moments before specifically for that reason).

Letting off a single growl I watched them scream and scamper off as I released yet another bout of white flames after them. It was time I took this hunt more seriously.

"… I am serious Astrid! The dragon was nearly on top of me before I grabbed at the quills I had so expertly dodged and wrenching them out proceeded to fight it off! It ran off before I could…"

"Shut up! Do you _want_ the dragon to find us?"

Slowly shuffling around I surveyed the barricade behind which the voice was coming from. Perhaps they did want me to find them…

Well, who would I be if I did not oblige?

"… fine, but still, you should have seen me…"

The voices were quieter now, but I already had their position so it did not matter. Silently aligning myself with the wall my prey was hiding behind I strengthened the tip of my tail and rising slightly higher on my paws shot my tail clean through the top half of the barricade before spreading the quills out almost perpendicular to the tail.

"OH THOR AL–"

"Move you idiot!"

I waited another second before shooting all of my quills. I could not see what was going on, so I could only hope that they managed to get out of the way. As with my entire race, my quills always shoot straight forward, so it should not have been difficult for the hatchlings to spot the area they were aiming towards and get out of there. I was even nice enough to give them a seconds warning!

"By all the gods did you see that!? The thrice forsaken dragon just nearly skewered us!"

"Will you shut up before I do it for you!"

There – they obviously survived, and will hopefully know better than to give away their position next time.

Further strengthening my tail I forced it downwards, simultaneously breaking it free and splitting the barricade it had been wedged in completely in half, metal plates and all. Pushing my way through it I spotted the first and the last hatchling I had come across flee into another side passage. I sped off after them.

Three intersections later they split up, and I followed the female which seemed at least slightly more competent and thus more fun to chase after. I was almost on top of her when she made a tight curve and forced me to slam my side against the barricade which promptly tilted and began to fall over, bringing with it several other attached to it. I didn't pay much attention to it, for as loath as I am to admit it, I had forgotten what I had set out to do and was now chasing her for the thrill of it – like a young hatchling chasing after a rabbit.

Following her up a falling barricade I jumped up over her and just barely missed grabbing at her with my claws as she fell down. With an indignant squawk at my failure I flew a bit further and with a sharp turn landed before proceeding to run back towards the female hatchling that seemed to have somehow gotten tangled up with another one – the one named Hiccup if I remembered correctly. Spotting the rapidly approaching figure of Gobber I knew that my time was up, so speeding up slightly I rushed towards the two hatchlings still rolling on the floor to snap at them and give them one last scare.

The next thing I knew, something heavy had smashed straight into the side of my face, nearly causing me to lose consciousness.

As the ringing in my ears and unsteady walk towards my cave clearly showed me, I had severely misjudged the young female human that had managed to get up from her awkward position and slam at me with her axe. If it hadn't been for the shield the axe had been imbedded in changing the blow into a bludgeoning force, I may very well have ended up dead – her impeccable aim had brought the axe perfectly down along my left eye ridge and from the force she had swung with even my strengthened bones would have yielded under her attack.

The next time I come out to train these hatchlings and fight this youngling, I will not make the same mistake again.

Still, at least I had hopefully managed to teach some things to the other five hatchlings – lessons that would serve them well if they followed them.

"Is this really some kind of joke to you!? Did you not listen to Gobber when he told us that this is not a game? And the rest of you just standing around laughing as the dragon was rushing in!? Am I the only one taking this seriously?"

For a moment I smiled – no, while this had been nowhere close to a real battle, it was most definitely not a game. Considering my behaviour today, that lesson was something that all of us needed to learn – or relearn in my case.

One close call had been enough – there was no way I was underestimating the hatchlings I had to teach ever again.

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* * *

**A/N**

I have not read any stories that cover dragon training from the POV of dragons, and in the interest of fleshing out some characters more often than not forgotten, I give you my take on the second day of dragon training.

Also just a little something – each dragon type has their own way of naming themselves – for Nightfuries it was based on something they notice during their first flight to follow their wanderlust (Toothless - Nightwing as an example); for the others I will leave it to you to try and guess.

As always, thanks to everyone who reviewed (E, CrackTheSkye,Darlene10104 especially for reviewing just about every chapter and anhedral for his in depth reviews – nothing really inspires writing better than knowing that some people appreciate your work(s) ).

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Saienai


	17. 1st-16: Lingering Thoughts

**~Ouroboros~**

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**1****st**** – 16. Lingering Thoughts**

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The rest of the day passed by quickly for Hiccup, and wasn't even half as exciting as their morning training was. Not that he minded, no – he most definitely did not mind at all. It was nice to know that at least some parts of his life could pass without things going wrong, dragons trying to kill him, or whatever else the gods decided to throw at him.

No, he liked peaceful moments like this, thank you very much – what with them becoming rarer and rarer.

As he lay there in his bed once more, his half asleep mind turned unbidden to the Nightfury he had visited yesterday (was it really only yesterday? It seemed almost a lifetime ago now). He wondered for a moment what it would be like – to be able to fly almost from birth, and then to have it snatched away from you, knowing that there was no way for it to be returned. _It would be like losing a leg…_

Somehow though, that seemed wrong. Gobber was the living proof that even without a leg it was possible to walk, run, jump, and who knows what else. Hiccup doubted that the Nightfury would be able to just get up and start flying through sheer determination. Then again, even Gobber needed to fashion something for himself to replace his leg. _Right, and the Nightfury can just make itself another tailfin._ To Hiccup it seemed that there was more chance of it growing the tailfin back than that back than of that happening…

_Why am I even thinking about it?_

Turning around he tried to banish those thoughts from his mind. For all he knew, the dragon had managed to climb its way out and was long gone by now – likely hunting for something to eat in the woods… which would naturally make the woods the last place he wanted to be. Nearly getting killed five times in three days was more than enough for him, really.

Now if only he could stop thinking about how… vulnerable? Definitely not weak or in any way harmless – it had been when he watched its failed attempts at capturing some fish. Why did he care if it was hungry or not? _Not that I care – but if hypothetically speaking I did, why would I?_

In part he guessed it could be because of his involvement in its predicament, but somehow that did not seem completely right either – he had seen several dragons killed and later taken apart for hide, bones, and whatnot; and did not particularly care for them. Then again, it wasn't like he had personally killed them either…

_Enough about that._

Hiccup forced his mind to switch topics and focus more on dragon training. He knew he was doing quite possibly the worst, what with his three close encounters with death – two of which happened during training this morning, the last of which he could swear caused him to see his life flashing before his eyes as he looked up after Astrid of all people yelled out for him to get out of the way, and saw the recently polished edge of an axe coming in directly towards him. It was only luck that he had been able to almost instinctually bring up his shield and block the axe from connecting directly with him.

Still, would he have been doing as bad if he had not shot down the Nightfury and not gone after it? If his father had placed him into dragon training back when it was still his dearest wish, would he have done better? Perhaps there was even a chance that he could have done well enough to earn the right to be the champion – after all years as Gobber's apprentice had at least given him the stamina needed to swing a hammer for several hours. Sure it was less than half the weight of the war hammers Vikings used during dragon raids, but still…

Funny how that thought now filled him with both childlike excitement and revulsion. Excitement for the chance that his father would be proud of him if he managed to reach that point, and revulsion…

Revulsion for the thought of killing a dragon, no matter how much it wanted to kill him in return. The same revulsion that had been so completely absent until his encounter with the Nightfury.

Seriously though, would it have been better for him and everyone else if his most recent invention failed just like the others?

When sleep caught him, Hiccup had yet to arrive at any acceptable answer.

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* * *

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He stood tall in the middle of the kill-ring, a decently sized axe (for him at least) in his hands. He could hear his father exclaiming something to the other Vikings gathered to watch his trial, but all of that was nothing more than background noise for him. His instincts were repeatedly warning him about the imminent danger he was in, and he could feel his hands involuntarily shake as shivers went up and down his spine. For the life of him he could not tell if these were shivers of excitement or fear.

Perhaps both, or considering the rather cold morning that it was, perhaps neither.

Everything up until now was in preparation for this day. He had shot down the Nightfury, but that was fated not to be his first kill. Instead he went through dragon training, survived and flourished where everyone else thought he would fall and die as _he_ did. He shivered again, and this time it definitely wasn't because of the cold.

It was still too early to breach that topic, even in his own thoughts.

_His _blood was still too fresh upon these stones.

The grating sound of the gates opening brought him back to the present and he berated himself for becoming so absorbed in superficial things. There would be time for them later, right now though there was only time for one thing…

_My body is a finely honed axe that my mind swings – there is no time for fear and hesitation that would blunt my strikes and dull my edge. There is no grief, there is no uncertainty – there is only my determination…_

His father's words resonated through him, and even as the gates slammed open, releasing the beast within, he stood rock still and emotionless – with only his eyes showing any sign of movement as they unblinkingly tracked the movement of the flaming dragon attempting to get behind him.

Turning around, his face split into a smirk as his eyes glittered in anticipation. Swinging his axe behind him, he rushed off towards the Monstrous Nightmare, whose baleful red eyes yearned for nothing but his own death. No matter what happened, only one of them would walk out of here alive, for such was the time honoured tradition of his tribe. There would be no help coming from the gathered Vikings – it was just him and the dragon.

Blood ran down his arm from the deep gash stretching all the way from his shoulder down to his elbow, and yet his face was adorned with a wide smile. For a while it seemed as if the battle would not go in his favour, especially after he had been just a bit too slow to prevent the claws from slicing into him to give him the worst wound yet when he had foolishly attempted to come at it from the side; but as with all such things the battle was decided in a single moment when he had managed to get underneath the Nightmare's head as it attempted to chomp down on him, and in that moment of weakness sliced at its neck.

The wound had been quite shallow, and yet it managed to nick the carotid artery that was one of the few weaknesses that all dragons possessed. After that, the battle was basically over. It took almost a minute for the dragon to become weak enough to drop down, but all he needed to do was avoid its attacks. At that point they were both bleeding excessively from their respective wounds, but the Nightmare's was much worse than his.

Looking down he raised his axe with his weaker (but still working) arm, prepared to end it all once and for all when unintentionally his eyes glanced over the dragon's and their gazes locked.

Green eyes looked into green eyes, and he could not help but step away, his legs snapping one of the twigs littering the forest around him.

Those eyes, looking at him with all their pain and fear laid bare for him to see…

Asking for mercy – begging him not to do this…

And once again he wondered if he was doing the right thing – but just like the last time, he did not have an answer.

With a sigh he took a step back and began to turn around when his hand dropped downwards, driving the axe still held tightly within its palm through the skull of the dragon in front of him; the green eyes still staring at him even as they lost focus, almost as if to ask why he would do this – why he would kill it when it had released him when their positions have been reversed.

His eyes widened in disbelief as he stared at the Monstrous Nightmare spasm a few times before stilling, its red eyes glazing over in the finality of death.

His body unheeding of his thoughts turned around, whether to look over the now cheering crowd or so as to not have to see the depths of his sins behind him he did not know.

Even as the yells of the Vikings washed over him, he could only think one thought – though whose thought it was, he did not know.

_:: Why… ::_

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Hiccup woke up with a yell, flailing his arms against the material that seemed to be suffocating him. Still half asleep he rolled off his bed and onto the floor, his arms too tied up to be of any use to break the fall.

His head hitting the wooden floor stunned him for a moment while also being enough to finish waking him up and causing his scream to abruptly cut off. His heart was still frantically attempting to escape from his chest, and for a moment he just lay there blinking away the white stars swimming through his vision while trying to understand where he was.

_Ok, I have got to stop waking up this way…_

Every time he had one of his nightmares, he somehow always managed to wake up screaming, tied up, and on the floor. Sometimes his dreams were happy, or at least satisfying – he had once dreamt that his father had arranged for him and Astrid to marry, which he did find rather revolting at the time as he had been seven, but it was perhaps that dream that started off his slight interest in her. Still during most nights he did not dream – dreams were few and far between and usually ended up being more of a nightmare than anything – like these last two.

What was worrying was that these two nightmares came right on top of one another, but Hiccup thought that he could probably account that to his recent flood of near-death experiences. No, what worried him most was that if he counted the dragon raid, it had been over three days since he had some good sleep.

Fortunately for him, Gobber had decided at the end of dragon training yesterday to give them all a day of rest to relax their muscles, so he did not have to go up against yet another dragon today – which could easily result in even worse consequences for him if he had had to go at it in the state he was in.

_For now though _he thought as he untangled himself from the furs surrounding him and throwing them back onto his bed, _I will like nothing more than to wash off my sweat… again… and then get back to sleep. _If he was lucky, this time his sleep would be nice, long, and most importantly dreamless – he had enough of fighting dragons during training to have to contend against them while asleep as well.

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As he made his way back inside, Hiccup had to re-evaluate his plans. As he should have known, the cold bath had much the same effect on him that it had yesterday – doing wonders to completely wake him up. Somehow he doubted he would be able to get back to sleep even if he tried.

_Well, at least that means I will not be seeing another dream again…_ That thought brought up his spirits up some. With the way things happened after the dragon raid, he would be glad to have a single day without dragons.

The familiar sounds of repetitive hammering permeated the air as he passed through the forge – while he was out Gobber had started up the forge and was hammering away at a red hot piece of metal that from the looks of it was a halfway formed axe head. From his own experience Hiccup knew that while some dented or bent weapons after a raid could be easily fixed, enough had to be melted down and re-forged to take up most of Gobber's free time. In a way their free day today was likely as much due to Gobber's need to catch up on work as to give them all time to rest after dragon training.

"So nice to see you among the living – wasn't sure ye were coming back when ye passed me along the way out, what with the blank staring eyes, dragging feet and who knows what else. Saying ye looked like death warmed over would have been giving ye looks too much credit." Gobber's voice echoed above the sounds of steel hitting steel.

"Didn't get much sleep last night, alright? Still, I am fine now – a barrel of half frozen water works wonders doesn't it"

"Aye, so it does. Do try and get some more sleep before tomorrow though will ya? Don't want you dropping down during dragon training do we now? Anyway, get something to eat and come on over – I need all the help I can get with the latest batch of weapons. If it aint a dragon tooth that finally takes me down, I put my other leg on it being one of these swords that does me in. Blasted things bend out of shape under the lightest of taps…" Gobber's mutters trailed off, getting buried under the constant sound of his hammer's blows.

"Sure, sure" Hiccup yelled behind him, not having stopped his walk back to his room throughout the conversation. Quickly throwing his used clothes to the side, Hiccup put on his shirt and vest that he had not bothered to take outside with him as he had expected to get back to bed. Checking to make sure his most recent journal was with him along with his dagger, he proceeded down to the kitchen.

Taking out a loaf of bread he idly munched on it as he searched around for some smoked fish or dried meat… or really something edible to fill his grumbling stomach with.

"Gobber! Did you move your fish and meat around since I was last here?" He yelled out upon coming up empty for the second time. When no answer was forthcoming Hiccup moved back towards the forge and yelled out again. This time the hammering paused and Gobber's voice boomed back towards him.

"Just finished what I had lad! – check outside if we have any hanging around. If there aint just go down and get some from the stores – enough to last us for the week mind ya."

His grunt of "fine" was lost as Gobber had started hammering away again. With a shrug Hiccup went outside, and noticing the empty drying racks turned to head to the docks to restock. His stomach faithfully growled again, making him wonder for a moment if this is what the Nightfury felt like when it found out it did not have any fish to eat.

_At least I can just go down and get some more – even if it will be several hours before I eat…_

Pushing the thoughts of the Nightfury down was a lot harder than he thought it would be.

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The way down to the docks was uneventful, and that was the primary problem. It was still early enough that few Vikings were around, leaving Hiccup alone with his thoughts to trudge his way through the streets, acutely aware of the partially destroyed village around him. On one side he could see a perfectly normal house that had survived the raid standing right next to another house that had several large holes blown through its side. Already there were planks of wood littering the floor next to it which would be used for repair within the next few days. Further down he could see the blackened remains of another house – this one having been completely destroyed, the debris from which was almost cleared away in preparation for new construction.

It was already the fourth day after the dragon raid, and all the dragon carcases have long since been disposed of. Better still, the squall several days ago had washed away all the blood that had stained the streets and cleared up the air from the smells of burnt flesh and blood. The funeral pyres have been sent off at sunset on the day of the raid, and unfortunately (or fortunately, he wasn't quite sure) for Hiccup he had been unable to attend as he had at that time been busy lying unconscious in the woods after releasing the Nightfury.

Still, he had attended an uncountable number of them during his life, and in some ways has gotten used to them. Death was after all an occupational hazard for them all – something he had been made acutely aware of these past few days.

Idly he wondered if the dragons felt the same way – did they also come back to their nest and mourn those they have lost during the raid? For some reason ever since meeting the Nightfury he just could not think of them as beasts…

Well, not exactly for 'some' reason if he was truthful with himself. Now that he had all the time in the world to think about it, he could easily pinpoint the exact time when he started feeling this way – even now he could clearly see the gaping jaw darting in to end his life before the paw of the same Nightfury intercepted it. He had no idea why it had done that, but he couldn't consider it as just a simple beast after that – not when it had hurt itself to stop his death (even if that death would have been caused by its own teeth).

_Would it have done the same if it knew that it was me who shot it down in the first place?_

Would it indeed. Strangely enough he did not care either way. For the first time in his life he felt ashamed of his own actions, and not in a '…I am sorry the contraption failed…' kind of way but in a genuine state of shame for what he had done. Ironic that it had not been him burning down half the village that had brought about these feelings of shame, but nearly killing a dragon.

Although now he was feeling guilty for not feeling guilty for almost burning down half the village…

_Wait, what?_

With a violent shake of his head Hiccup sped up towards the docks. Sometimes his thoughts confused even himself.

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The docks were not such per se – the area called 'the docks' covered nearly a third of the village and consisted of both the extensive wooden platforms around which the Viking longboats and visiting merchant ships were tied, and quite a fair amount of storage houses further in. These huts were built at least several orders of magnitude sturdier than other Viking houses, mostly because the materials stored within could not be as easily replaced as whatever you decided to keep in your lodgings.

Things like building material, furs, smoked fish and meat, raw fish and meat, grain, not to mention dragon skin and bones were all among the multitude of things that one could find if he knew which storage house to look in. Being so close to the ships allowed for easy trade for merchants while at the same time keeping everything away from where the bulk of dragons focus on – namely the sheep pens on the opposite end of the village and the drying racks near the Viking lodgings.

No one knew why dragons did not focus more on the storage houses considering the copious amounts of fish and meat that was usually kept there, but they have long since learned to accept their blessings whenever they appeared. Perhaps it was because by weight the sheep were better sources of food while the drying racks simply smelled inviting, but realistically the reasons did not matter. The sheep pens and lodgings were attacked while the docks mostly weren't, that was all there was to it.

With the traders coming once a year during the warmest of the summer months and this year's group not due to arrive for at least another month there wasn't anyone around to guard the docks. With the constant threat of dragon attacks combined with the constant need to rebuild destroyed houses, not to mention the constant possibility of death, everything in storage was freely available to anyone that needed it. Even the doors were only bolted in without any locks, mostly to prevent animals and weather from wandering in. Trading was conducted by either Stoick or several other Vikings who were well versed in such arts, and it was generally left up to each Viking's honor to only take what they or their family needed to survive.

As for payment… Sooner or later all Vikings paid with their limbs or life.

Hiccup of course knew all this, so he was hardly surprised when no one stopped him from unfastening the heavy latch and making his way into the storehouse where all the fish from the latest expeditions was dumped off – usually to be taken apart and either salted or smoked for long term storage. With the most recent fishing trip having come in yesterday, he was quite sure that most of the fish would be fresh and still in storage.

The smell of fish and saltwater surrounding him, he quickly picked up a basket almost a third of his own height and roughly the same in breadth, and proceeded to unhook several cod and haddock, checking them over and throwing them into the basket. From the looks of it, he was going to spend the entire morning skinning and taking apart the quickly filling basket of fish before frying up some for himself and Gobber while salting the rest. The two of them preferred salted fish over smoked – especially on a loaf of bread.

Covering the basket and tying off the lid so as not to spill any fish on his way back, Hiccup made his way out of the storehouse, and latching it closed proceeded to make his way back. While normally he did not mind the smell of fish – you couldn't live on Berk for long if you did after all – this time the strong smell reminded him of the Nightfury's failed attempts at fishing, and he really did not want to think about it at the moment.

So what if it was lying around dying of hunger in the cove it could not possibly get out of… _It's not like I can do anything about… it…_

It felt as if the fish basket he was carrying on his back suddenly got heavier to remind him of its existence. _Of course! Just walk in there and give it several cod and a pack of haddock for lunch. As for desert? Why there was a perfectly good Hiccup Haddock the Third around! Sure he was barely skin and bones, but Haddocks are quite a rare catch after all – a veritable delicacy for a healing dragon! _

Almost as if his mind had a mind of its own, Hiccup vividly recalled sitting there on the ledge watching the dragon below looking up at him with an almost perplexed expression – one that (at least in his memory) did not contain any anger or malevolent intent. He could clearly remember how it turned away from him and attempted to catch some fish. Yet another crack in his decision to stay away from the Nightfury appeared as he once more remembered that it failed to catch any (not that he needed any reminding – _that_ thought has been on his mind the entire day)

_How is going there to feed it any different from cutting apart its bindings and releasing it? After all, if I just leave it there, how would that be any different from killing it? I might as well have killed it when I first found it and saved it days of pain and hunger… _The green eyes of the dragon from his dream flashed in his mind, along his dream self's doubts about killing it.

Right – plan for the day: Get back to Gobber, hook a few fish off to the side, get Gobber to fry a few while he salted the rest, eat some fish, escape from Gobber, get to the cove, feed ravenous dragon… and hopefully don't get eaten.

Dang it all, and he so wanted to have at least one day without dragons complicating matters.

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**A/N**

I actually did not want to have the dream that I placed in this chapter here – mostly because combined with Hiccup's first dream and Toothless' dream, this makes it the third chapter in a row to have a dream sequence in it. I tried moving it around or even getting rid of it, but after the fourth attempt had to give up – the story _wants_ them like this, and who am I to say otherwise.

On a happy note, I forgot to mention before but we have finally passed the 50 review mark! Wonder if I can clear 100 before I finish the current cycle (nowhere close to being half way, so probably no). Grats to Anhedral for being the 50th person to review my story.

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Saienai signing off


	18. 1st-17: Mirrors of the Soul

**~Ouroboros~**

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**1****st**** – 17. Mirrors of the Soul**

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Climbing down into the cove was easier than he had thought, even with a half filled basket of fish hanging off his shoulders. The tree roots that he had had to climb down offered much more in the way of hand- and foot- holds than he had expected and were rough enough to provide a good grip. Of course now that he was standing here in the actual cove, the apprehension he had felt returned with a vengeance. The boulders along the wall that he was currently using as impromptu hiding places seemed woefully inadequate – as was the wooden shield he pilfered from a pile of fixed shields back at Gobber's.

"Come on Hiccup – this is what you wanted right? All you have to do is feed the dragon and run before it eats you…" he muttered to himself before taking a few steadying breaths. Quite unsurprisingly his words did little in the way of calming his nervousness.

Unhooking his shield and gripping it with his hand, Hiccup dug into his basket and took out a single cod, roughly the size of his arm. Pausing just as he was about to tie the lid back on he instead untied the other side and carefully placed the lid on the ground. If he had to make a run for it he would drop the basket behind him and pray that the Nightfury went after the fish littering the ground instead of after him.

_Please let everything work out alright – or at least for me to get out of this alive…_

Putting the basket back on his back Hiccup took a few more deep breaths and cautiously made his way towards the only opening in the rocks surrounding him – the opening leading into the center of the cove.

When his shield got wedged between the two boulders, Hiccup could really not bring himself to be surprised. Of course his shield would get stuck – how could he possibly be allowed an advantage, no matter how small, when facing against a dragon? What if he accidentally bruised its throat on the way down or Hel forbid chipped a tooth or two?

With another futile tug he looked down at the fish in his hands and threw it clean over his shield and perhaps ten paces into the cove, futilely hoping that he would not have to get out into the middle of the clearing where the chances of his survival would be even lower than the abysmal level they were at now.

When a minute passed without the appearance of the Nightfury, Hiccup began to worry. Well, ok – he was worried before, but now instead of being worried about his short life expectancy he was starting to worry about the dragon itself. He didn't think that it could have succumbed to hunger this fast – it was after all only the fourth day since it crashed; on the other hand, if its previous attempts were any indication, he doubted it could have left the cove by itself…

Considering that the dragon wasn't coming, and he couldn't spot it from the location he was at, there was only one thing left to do.

_Searching for a dragon… Last time I did this the dragon was tied up and at my mercy, and yet I still managed to almost get killed by it. You would think I would've learned from that._

Well, second-last time really, but it wasn't as if that made it much better.

Giving his shield its last tug – more out of exasperation than anything else, Hiccup ducked underneath it before pulling the fish basket after him. Hanging it off his shoulder he proceeded to make his way to where he threw the fish.

Picking the cod back up Hiccup slowly made his way further into the cove. Uncontrollable shivers raced up his spine as his anxiety grew – whether for the dragon's wellbeing or his own, he really couldn't tell; and frankly, that scared him worse still.

_Now where in Odin's name could that Nightfury be hiding?_

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* * *

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It's certainly funny how much of an impact simple things can have on our lives.

It was a single sound that awoke me from the meditation like state I was in – just a simple sound of something landing on the grass not too far from where I lay.

I would have disregarded it completely had not the wind picked up a bit and brought the smell of fish to me. For a moment I hovered in indecision as I wondered if I should wake myself up and see what was going on or just remain lying here and wait out the remainder of my life.

Of course my inexperience betrayed me here – I couldn't hold myself in a state of detachment while simultaneously allowing myself to think; the state of detachment is by its very definition a state without time and thought.

As my body's heart rate increased from 'barely noticeable' back to acceptable levels and it took a deep breath of fresh air, bringing with it another dose of that fresh fish smell; I let my eyes open back up and waited as they cleared up.

Trying hard to ignore the prickling, tingling sensation as my nerves started to provide me with the feeling of my body again I tried to move my paws, and after succeeding at that tried to stand up.

I had once before gone into a deep hibernation like sleep similar to this under the guidance of my sire, so I knew that all the strangeness I was experiencing was just the normal part of my body waking up – as blood once more flowed quickly along my veins and the cells of my body started consuming energy again. It was of course worse than before – I had been dangerously close to passing the point when my mind could no longer rise back, and as if sensing that my body had come closer to death than simple hibernation as well.

Several false starts later, as my legs refused to hold me, I finally succeeded in getting up. Quietly making my way over to the surrounding rock formation I started to climb it. I had originally picked this spot as it was surrounded by the sheer cliff wall along one side and half-wingspan high rocks along the other sides – meaning that I would have been undisturbed until the smell of my decomposing bo –

I closed off my thoughts there and instead focused on not making any sound as I scaled over the decently sized boulder back into the main part of the cove, idly wondering just who and for what reason decided to bring fresh fish into my cove, thoughts of death and insanity having been pushed away for a while.

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* * *

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The first thing Hiccup noticed was a feeling of being watched – a feeling which he promptly ignored as nothing more than his own nerves. The second thing was however much more difficult to ignore, as it was composed of a faint sound of claws grating against stone.

Whirling around he felt his breath hitch in his throat as he finally spotted the dragon, which had noticed him noticing it and proceeded to jump down off the boulder he had first spotted it on, never once taking its eyes off him. Something inside his mind noted that in the position the Nightfury was now in it had effectively blocked his only route back to safety.

Gathering what little courage remained inside him, Hiccup dropped the basket and taking a few hesitant steps towards the dragon held out the single cod he had initially thrown into the cove. Standing still he watched as the dragon strafed along, slowly coming closer while simultaneously putting itself even further between him and the only way out.

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I could not say I was surprised to see the human hatchling. Surprised that he had come back, yes – but not that it was him. He was, after all, the only one that I knew of that knew about this cove, and more specifically of me being in it. His reasons for coming here however were just as much a mystery to me as the last time I saw him.

I decided to get closer.

No, this decision was not in any way influenced by the (_mind-numbingly delicious_) smell of the fish coming from his general direction combined with the ravenous hunger clouding my mind…

Fine, the (_insanely appetizing_) smell coming off the fish in the hatchlings claws could have possibly impacted my decision a tiny bit.

My stomach growled in response to the smell of cod in the air and I tried to force it to be quiet without alerting the hatchling. If it wasn't for my knowledge that I was nearly dead on my feet I would have died of embarrassment at such a show of lust towards another's food. As it was, I still felt slightly embarrassed – nothing justified lusting for someone's food.

Pushing the smell of the fish and its taste upon the air off to the side I took another cautious step closer. The entire situation looked all too much like a standard _greeting_, and I was interested to know if the human hatchling was really initiating one with me. Sure I considered the cove as mine – but I think we both knew that this island belonged to the human tribe of which he must have been a part of, meaning that if anyone was to take initiative to start a _greeting_ between our two races it should have been me – just as I had planned to when I had first arrived at this island, before the situation escalated to… _this_.

I had it all planned out after all – following my mother's explanations of proper etiquette when meeting with other tribes (including human ones), I was going to catch a healthy deer and present it to the human tribe. Following this the most common response was for the _CoiraRei_ (or elder in human tribes) to greet me and accept my offering, giving a portion of it back to me to signify that I was allowed to hunt within their zone of influence. Any negotiations for me to stay near their tribe until _wanderlust_ exerted its pull once more would be taken care of next.

In the highly unlikely case of them not accepting my offering, I would try again twice more before leaving early. There were after all multiple reasons why they would not accept – drought or very sparse hunting grounds could very well make it impossible for the location to support another dragon, and some human tribes may not want to have a dragon living close by (for whatever reason). Of course in the case of _OiraRae_ most dragon tribes (or so I was told) wouldn't deny the offering as it was only a single dragon whose stay was guaranteed to be temporary, lasting only a few Cycles before moving on.

Food was _food_ after all – and matters of it and any hunting grounds were serious business. If I wanted to stay on the island for a day and leave, well that was my decision. If I wanted to hunt here… well that was another matter altogether.

Of course with this particular tribe of humans, I was particularly lucky to not have gotten around to initiating a _greeting_ with them. From what I saw they were more likely to try and shoot me out of the sky than make any attempts at communication – something that I would not have believed possible had not the sight of them killing dragons been woven into the weave of memories surrounding my soul.

Which is what made the hatchling holding a (_-nice, -large, -fresh…_) cod out towards me so perplexing.

I was less than a single wingspan away from him when the wind picked up again, delivering a nearly imperceptible smell of iron and dragon blood to me. Nearly instinctually my body moved into a semi-crouching position from which I could attack or jump away with equal ease, while at the same time releasing a low growl as a warning.

The hatching flinched, jerking his paws along with the fish back closer to himself before slowly reaching into his furs to withdraw a blade and dropping it on the floor. My breath hitched for a moment as I wondered if I had not completely misread the situation – it did not take me even a moment to recognize the blade, the dried blood along its length and a dull aching in my side merely confirmed that it had been this exact blade that had come so close to taking my life.

If the hatchling was indeed here to initiate a _greeting_ with me, then what could have possessed him to bring a weapon it had used against me along? By the twin goddesses, he didn't even bother to wash my blood off it!

_:: Get rid of it! :: _I accented my thought with another snarl and a shake of my head off to the side as I highly doubted the human could hear me.

Surprisingly either my thought or my actions were understood as I watched him nudge the blade with one of his bottom paws and balancing it on the paw throw it to the side where it sunk into the lake. Making a mental note that contrary to my teachings about the way different soul-carriers hunted, a human's lower paws could potentially be as dangerous as the upper paws they most commonly used; I allowed myself to relax from my position which seemed to lower the amount of fear I could feel emanating from the hatchling.

I waited for a moment for the hatchling to put the fish down and back away, but for some reason that I could not understand he instead held it out in his claws towards me instead. A few more moments passed and I realized that he was waiting for me to make a move, so cautiously I approached him, my eyes darting every now and then towards the fish which looked more and more appetizing by the second.

Perhaps the _greeting_ was slightly different among the humans – I could not after all expect them to perform it exactly the same way my mother taught me…

When I was close enough to swipe at him with my claws if I wanted to I opened my mouth slightly, taking care to keep my fangs retracted as if I was about to shoot a plasma bolt – my own way of showing that I meant the hatchling no harm. Seeing how the hatchling was still standing in front of me instead of bolting away, I assumed that my intentions were clear.

Although half my mind was probably clouded by the intoxicating smell of fish by now, I still had the presence of mind to carefully check on the position of the hatchling's paws – one of the primary reasons why the offering was placed down on the ground in a proper ceremony was to prevent anyone from taking a bite of more than just the offering. The hatchling just did not seem to realize that the way he was holding the fish could easily lead to him missing a claw or two from the paws he was using to hold the cod towards me if I was not careful enough.

"What do you know – toothless. I was quite sure you had – "

I didn't quite pay attention to whatever the hatchling was saying as I extended my fangs and shot my head forward to bite down on the fish, tearing it away from the his paws and raising my head upwards to swallow the offered fish in three quick bites. Sure it barely counted as a snack and only accomplished in making my stomach grumble for more, but it was really the thought that counted here.

" – Teeth."

Turning back towards the hatchling I tried to remember the next step before my eyes widened as I realized my blunder. Whether it was because the offering was that small (I mean a fish, really) or because I really was that hungry; but in any case I had completely forgotten to leave a portion to give back to him. I thought of perhaps catching another fish or taking another one from those the hatchling brought with him, but ultimately decided against either plan as I would have to break off the meeting to catch some fish (which may be badly misinterpreted by the hatchling), and as for the second plan, it would be beyond rude to offer him his own fish in return to say nothing of taking _his_ fish from him.

The only option left to me was slightly frowned upon, but hopefully acceptable considering the circumstances. Making my way closer to the hatchling I watched with amusement as he took several steps back away from me before stumbling and falling on his back – a position that humans seemed to be only slightly more mobile in than dragons.

"No no no – I don't have any more. The rest is all in the basket over there…"

I let off a snort – as if I would be inconsiderate enough to take away his catch. I would much rather give another try at catching my own lunch some time later. Food was sacred after all – I would rather starve to death than steal food, as would any dragon. My second winter taught me that much at least.

A few more steps on my part and rather funny scrambling on the part of the hatchling brought him against one of the boulders littering the cove, with my head extremely close to his. This close I could actually feel his mind without diving back into the river of souls as I looked into his eyes – a perfectly round sphere of ice with barely any imperfections on it. Breaking my gaze away from his I heaved a few times and regurgitated the tail end of the fish onto his chest before taking a few steps back and lying to the side, my tail gently flicking as I waited for him to accept his portion.

I lay there, gazing with patience at him.

The hatchling, having drawn himself up into what I guessed constituted a sitting position amongst humans, sat there looking with confusion at both me and the fish.

As the awkward silence stretched I wondered if he was rejecting my offer or simply did not know what to do. Deciding finally to give him a nudge just in case this really was just a case of miscommunication, I proceeded to use my head to point first at the fish tail and then back at him. From the widening eyes and several rapid glances shared between me and the fish tail I surmised that he understood what to do. Now all that was left was for him to –

His look of disbelief and mild horror made me pause for a second and wonder if I had perchance forgotten something. I was quite sure that humans could eat fish, after all the hatchling had brought a large amount of them with him, so that could not be the problem, and nothing else really came to mind that could explain why he would not eat the fish tail…

Perhaps the human _greeting_ did not include this part? But then again it had been mostly the same until now so why would it differ here? Besides – this was the most important part of a _greeting_, the sharing of hunting rights – why even have one without it?

Seeing him take a bite out of the tail I calmed down. Apparently I had been nervous for no real reason and it simply took longer than I expected for him to remember what he needed to do. He was quite young, and probably didn't think he would actually participate in a _greeting_ until many Cycles later.

Still, it seemed to be taking him longer to swallow even a single bite – I knew of the differences between humans and dragons enough to understand the need for humans to chew things (rather inefficient, I always thought), but even so he should have finished by now.

Gesturing for him to swallow I watched as it took him several attempts to do just that. I was really starting to worry about the hatchling – he should know better than to bite off a larger chunk that he could not easily swallow – his sire should have taught him that at the very least! Seeing as how he put the rest of the fish tail aside and baring his fangs started to grin at me, I wondered if he had simply already eaten before focusing back on the hatchling and trying to decipher just why he would pick this moment to grin at me.

It didn't take long to remember that unlike virtually all other beings in the world humans showed their fangs to express friendliness as opposed to aggression, and with that thought came the question of how to reply to it. I was already lying in a relaxed position with my pupils in their non-aggressive circular state, so the only thing I could think of was to try and mimic his grin.

It was more difficult that I would have imagined to pull off a convincing imitation (at least I hoped it was convincing as I couldn't see myself to form an honest opinion), mostly because I have never used those muscles in quite this way before. Still, from the gobsmacked expression on the hatchling's face I could honestly say it was worth it.

Then I noticed him standing up and approaching me across the half-wingspan distance separating us, stretching out his front paw towards me. I was just in the process of wondering if this was some strange human continuation of the _greeting_ when I noticed that it was not only his paw that was coming closer, but his mind as well.

Distances in the physical world and in the sea of souls are only loosely related – it was possible for someone to be several minutes flight away from you and yet close enough in the sea of souls for your minds to touch, and the reverse was true as well; so the fact that the hatchling's mind was coming closer along with his physical body was unexpected.

I clearly saw the hatchling's sphere of ice approaching me, and an irrational fear of my mind actually touching another rose up within me. I could not really explain it except that my time in the darkness had left some scars on my mind that would take much longer to heal than any wounds on my physical body. I was afraid of approaching other minds – afraid that they would ensnare me and take away what little freedom I had left, no matter how irrational that was.

The wind sensors on my head dropped down along with my ears to lie flush against my neck as my eyes narrowed with their pupils tightening into slits and my expression turned back into a snarl. Even as the hatchling took a step back from me I bolted – flinching away from the human hatchling as I pushed myself to my feet. I didn't even notice knocking the wind out of him with my tail as I whirled away before jumping up into the air and gliding to the other side of the cove. Now sufficiently far away I burned a circle of ash into the ground and curled myself on it, my heart rate only now starting to return to normal along with the gradual widening of my pupils back to their relaxed circular state.

I was nowhere close to being ready to accept such intimate contact. Perhaps if we have met earlier – before my mind had been tainted by that accursed darkness – perhaps then I could have readily accepted the human hatchling's offer. Not now though. In a sun cycle or two I would be willing to try again, assuming of course that the hatchling returned once more – but not right now.

Right now I doubted I would have accepted contact from my mother and sire.

_I will just have to give it some time…_

Bird song pierced through the air and I involuntarily looked up towards it. _But I don't have any time, do I? With my tailfin taken away from me and the sky forever closed off to me, it does not matter how corrupted my mind is – I will be dead or worse, insane within a moon cycle at most…_

I have never thought I could possibly come to envy any soul-less creature – any being really, for how could I want to be anything but a dragon? But as I look at the birds flying freely through the air I cannot help but think just how perfect their lives are.

Perfect at least, in comparison to mine.

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As Hiccup lay sprawled on the ground wondering what the Hel just happened, he took the time to thank any and all gods that have been watching over him this day for his continued survival. Somehow – he wasn't quite sure how – he had managed to infuriate the Nightfury which resulted in his current state. Still, some reason he was not instantly killed for his transgressions, whatever they have been.

Since trying to get up would be pointless – what with the world going in and out of focus and his lungs attempting to get back some of the air that had been knocked out of him – Hiccup instead attempted to make sense of this most recent meeting with the Nightfury. The entire… ritual, for he could not find a better name for it, just further drove in the point that dragons (or at least this particular Nightfury) were closer to humans than the Vikings thought. No matter how nauseating the taste and feel of raw fish was, the fact that the Nightfury had shared it with him when it was clearly hungry and furthermore made him eat it clearly showed its intelligence.

_And yet the dragons still raid our village…_

If the dragons truly were intelligent then the raids were less like the wolf pack raids far south that traders told about which occurred simply because the caravans were the easiest source of food; instead the dragon raids would be more like… a war? But no, everyone knew that the dragons were not quite interested in actually killing the Vikings and were instead focused more on stealing sheep and dried meat – lending credence to them being mindless beasts that attacked only due to the concentration of food within the village.

So did that mean that the Nightfury was the only dragon that was intelligent? It did make some sort of sense – after all the Nightfury was the only dragon that never tried to steal food, probably knowing that its chances of survival were much better in the air, and probably attacked the village because it wanted to decrease the number of dragons that were killed during the raids.

Hiccup felt a shiver go up his spine as he wondered what it would be like to be the only intelligent being in your tribe – alone with no one to talk to, thrust into the position of protecting the others from their stupid instinctual drive to collect food no matter the danger from what could possibly be the easiest or closest food source. If he remembered correctly the Nightfury (for really, no one has ever seen more than one) must have arrived at the dragon nest roughly twelve years ago and having realized the state of affairs decided to protect them in the only way it can.

Everything fit – the reason why the Nightfury had not killed him when it had him at its mercy even though any other dragons that he had encountered before had tried their hardest to no matter the situation; the ritual they had just conducted; everything fit in perfectly! Even when it attacked during the dragon raids it usually targeted the catapult towers and houses so as to take the attention of the Vikings away from the other dragons!

_Wow – that means that I brought down and crippled the only intelligent dragon._ And that thought brought Hiccup to a halt as he remembered a question he had asked himself earlier that day – would the Nightfury have released him back there in the clearing if it had known that the human it was holding down was the same one who so callously shot it down and crippled it?

For a moment he toyed with the idea of coming clean – of just telling the Nightfury that he was the one that crippled it and accept whatever came afterwards – but he couldn't. If he died here, then who would bring it food until it somehow managed to get out of the cove? Besides which, no matter what he told himself, he really was scared of death.

Speaking of food, the Nightfury seemed inclined to leave the fish he brought with him alone (further proof that it was intelligent, not that he needed any more), but perhaps it would accept some if he offered it some more.

Sitting up now that the world had stopped spinning around him, Hiccup glanced around to see if he could spot the Nightfury. It did not take long to find it considering that it was lying in plain view on the opposite side of the cove. Climbing back up to his feet he walked over to where he had left his basket of fish, and picking it up turned towards the dragon.

The first few cautious steps soon transformed into a hurried walk as the dragon did not make any sign of being angry at his approach, and soon enough Hiccup found himself no more than four steps away from the Nightfury which looked strangely peaceful curled up on a circle of ash that he guessed it must have burned into the ground with its flames. Curled up tightly as it was, it reminded Hiccup of the way foxes slept, just with the fins along its tail (fin – just one, he reminded himself) spread open and covering its eyes.

Depositing the basket of sigh on the ground Hiccup sat down cross-legged and pondered what to do next. A moment later his stubbornness won out over his sense of self preservation and he proceeded to shuffle himself closer to the Nightfury with the well thought out and completely not suicidal plan of shaking it awake. This fortunately for his survival turned out to be unnecessarily as the tail lifted up allowing him to look into the open and slightly annoyed eyes of the dragon. Gulping down the remnants of fear that spiked through him from the glare he pointed to the basket that was now slightly behind him.

"You didn't eat any, but I just thought I'd let you know that I brought the basket of fish for you – so if you want any you can eat some. Consider it a… gift? Offering? An… Anyway, I'll just be going over there now."

The glare was gone by the time he finished, but he still thought it would be prudent of him to retreat before he made another blunder and made it angry again. Now that he thought about it, if it had been that angry at his attempt at approaching it, he did not really want to know what it would have done if he had completed his plan and tried to shake it awake.

Even as he took his time walking away he could hear the sounds of shuffling followed by chomps and growls of what to him sounded like contentment. When he reached the exit from the cove where his trusty shield was still stuck between two rock outcroppings, Hiccup looked back towards the Nightfury and felt his heart rise into his throat as he noticed it no more than a few steps behind him. His heart dropped back down almost as fast when he saw its pupils were open into wide circles and its earflaps standing outwards – altogether looking so completely different from the Nightfury that held him down in the clearing that if he did not know better he would have assumed they were two completely different creatures.

Blinking away at how… peaceful (if that could ever be used to describe a fire breathing monster) the Nightfury looked Hiccup noticed the now empty fish basket it was carefully holding in its teeth. Seeing as he had its attention, the dragon lowered the basket to the ground, and releasing it gave off a croon before looking at Hiccup expectedly.

"Ah – yes, um… Hope you liked it."

There was a nigh irresistible need within him to attempt to approach and _touch _the Nightfury again, and for a moment Hiccup wondered if the Nightfury felt the same way as it did nothing to move away, but his memories of what happened last time held him back. Still, he was completely unafraid to approach the dragon and look away from it as he picked up the basket and hooked it over his shoulders. Hearing another croon coming from it he turned back around and saw it walk away, back to its recently made nest. He didn't look away until the Nightfury was starting to curl up in its center once more, but once it did he turned around and threw his weight at the shield in a last ditch attempt to get it out.

A single deep growl roused Hiccup from his rapidly losing battle, and turning around he noticed that the Nightfury had not gone back to sleep as he had thought. Instead it was looking back at him expectedly. Not knowing exactly what it wanted he decided to just come back to it and see if he could figure it out. It wasn't even ten steps along the elliptical path around the lake that would bring him to the dragon when he felt a warm wind pass within less than a foot from his face followed by an explosion behind him.

Whirling around and instinctually dropping down into a crouch Hiccup took in the quickly dispersing ball of smoke – one that was much smaller than he would have expected from the Nightfury that had destroyed towers with one or two shots. His heart beating at almost double its regular speed he whirled back around to face the dragon who had not moved even an inch from its position. It was really only the memory of the dragon manual where it said that a Nightfury absolutely never missed that kept him from running away screaming in the hopes of putting at least some distance between him and the dragon – after all, if he was alive then that meant that he had not been the target the Nightfury had aimed at.

Of course the same dragon manual also said that a Nightfury did not need to eat, so it wasn't as if it was that reliable…

When several moments passed without any perceptible movement from either of them, Hiccup gathered enough courage to look away and glanced behind him. The smoke had long since dispersed itself so he could now see the black charred boulders through which he had entered the cove and the surprising lack of a shield between them – the explosion having likely jarred it out. Turning back to the Nightfury Hiccup could not help but wonder if that had been the purpose of the fireball in the first place.

"Well… thanks for that… I guess."

The Nightfury nodded and turned away. This time Hiccup did not look away until it was completely finished comfortably curling up. Looking back at the place he last saw the shield he wondered if it had even survived the explosion – and even if it did how he could possibly explain the charred and paint stripped shield that had less than a day ago been carefully repaired by Gobber.

With a sigh he walked off to search for it, thankful that he had not taken off the basket when he started tugging at the shield as if he had it would have most likely been destroyed in the explosion – and unlike shields its disappearance was much more likely to have been noticed.

The shield was in pretty much the state Hiccup had envisioned it to be. The blast had by all looks originated right from the central metal bulb, further proving the accuracy Nightfuries possessed, and burned away at the painted wyvern surrounding it, leaving behind scorched wood.

It was truly a showmanship of Viking construction or perhaps Gobber's skill that the shield was even in one piece, but there was simply no way he was going to be returning to the Village with it. Even if it would fit in perfectly with the other shields slated for repair-work, it would be impossible for him to avoid awkward questions if he was caught carrying it.

Deciding to just dump it over the bridge on his way back to the Village, Hiccup paused in the process of picking it up and looked back into the cove. There really was not much for him to do back at Gobber's, and considering that he was now quite sure the Nightfury was not going to eat him the moment he turned away from it (or before that) this was a good chance for him to just sit down and sketch the cove as he had planned to do when he had first found it. _Feeling safe in the presence of the only dragon to be placed in the 'legendary' classification… All the hits on the head during dragon training must have done more damage than I thought._

_Oh well._

Throwing the basket off his shoulders to roll along and lie next to the blackened shield, Hiccup turned back to the entranceway and walked in. Not wanting to disturb the Nightfury he sat down with his back next to the rock he had crawled up against what felt like only moments ago, and picking up the remainders of the fish tail threw it off to the side. The noise it made when it landed in the water caused him to glance over to the dragon lying several hundred feet away, but there wasn't even a flicker of movement from it.

Taking out his sketchpad, Hiccup relaxed and started to sketch out a general outline of the Nightfury slumbering further down the cove from him. Perhaps later he could come closer to get something more detailed, but for now this was enough. He had already been close enough to fix some of the errors of his earlier sketches – namely that there were actually _two_ earflaps below and one above the dragon's ears along both sides of its head, six in total as opposed to four that he had initially drawn.

.

* * *

.

It was almost sunset when I woke up and the world was bathed in a dark red, almost purplish light – the shadows stretched far along the walls of the cove, but not far enough to completely thrust the bottom of it into darkness. Standing up I spread my wings and stretched in a typical draconic fashion – wings extended fully, back paws stretching backwards while the front paws and neck forced my head as far into the sky as possible. A few swings of my tail released the kinks along its length and I felt my body responding as it should once more – several _moonfull_ of fish had been more than enough to bring my body back to an acceptable condition.

Looking around I let off a startled warble when I noticed the human hatchling resting against a rock across the cove. Being on the opposite side he was bathed in the red glow of sunlight that still reached down into the cove, whereas I was lying within the shadows. I am sure there was some sort of higher spiritual meaning that I could make from this, but at the moment I was just pleasantly surprised that the hatchling was still here.

He had not yet noticed that I was awake, being engrossed in whatever he was doing enough that even my startled warble did not break his concentration – and neither did my slow walk towards him. I had been careful not to let him notice me (or at least as careful as you could be when there was nowhere to hide that even a brief glance around would not have resulted in him seeing me), and it wasn't until my shadow fell on him that he tensed for a moment before relaxing. It felt… good to know that he trusted me enough to not even turn around when he noticed me approaching.

A few more steps and I was able to look down to see what he was doing. It took a second for me to realize that the strange lines he had placed on what smelled like a strangely shaped piece of wood was actually depicting the cove with me curled up in the center and beams of sunlight shining through the air; the waters of the lake drawn in as well, and with surprising detail.

I remember being taught something like this – unlike dragons who could share images and experiences between each other, humans were chained down into the physical world and so had to find alternate ways of showing the beauty of what they had experienced. What I was seeing now was something that had piqued my interest from the moment I was told about it – a physical memory.

I had to admit that it was just as mesmerising as I had imagined it to be.

"So what do you think?"

_::Simply beautiful:: _I replied, and then remembering that he could not hear my thoughts gave off a soft croon within which even the hatchling should have been able to hear my awe.

"You started me you know – I was just finishing off the water when your shadow covered me. Always found water to be difficult to draw."

I assumed that drawing is what humans called the process of making a physical memory. Looking back at his memory I traced out with my eyes the carefully placed lines and compared them with my own memory of the cove as seen from this position. There were differences that I could easily pick out – the branches of the tree were slightly different, the rocks of the wall following a slightly more complex pattern… I naturally disregarded the dragon on the physical memory, but even so such mistakes were impossible within the weave of memories surrounding my mind.

To some the discrepancies may have been off-putting, but to me they seemed to just add a sort of mystical quality to the physical memory that simply did not exist in my mind. Interesting how the physical memory wasn't perfect; and that in a way gave it a sort of beauty that did not exist in the reality surrounding us.

The sense of wonder condensed itself within me into something more tangible, and I realized that I too wanted to experience the creation of a physical memory – Something within me wanted to try drawing a physical memory of my own.

Searching through my mind I tried to come up with something that could compare to the memory before me that the hatchling shared with me. Something just as beautiful, and hopefully involving the hatchling as well since he had been so kind as to… draw (still a foreign word to me) me on his memory.

Several images flashed through my mind before I settled on one that seemed to perfectly fit the situation.

Turning back around I searched for something I could use to draw – the wooden stick he was using was way too small for me to pick up, as was the tiny piece of wood he was drawing on. I needed something much bigger.

In the end I pranced over to a young sapling, and giving it a twist after grabbing it with my jaw easily snapped the trunk, leaving me with a larger version of the stick the hatchling had used. As for something to draw on – well there really wasn't anything large enough except for the relatively flat grass covered ground.

Making the first few gashes along the ground I turned to look at the hatchling and preened when I noticed him staring in wonder at what I was doing. A few more strokes, and then a few more… and then I settled into an almost hypnotic rhythm as I layered more and more detail on the memory taking shape on the ground around me. I was so lost in what I was doing that I did not even notice as I smacked the hatchling several times with the tree top when I came too close to him.

In a moment, I was done. Sitting down on my back paws I dropped the used sapling and admired my first physical memory. It may not have been drawn as well as the hatchling's memory, but I have to say it was good for a first attempt. Idly watching as the hatchling took in my physical memory I wondered if he would even understand just what he was looking at.

It was drastically different from the physical memory of the cove that the hatchling drew, but that was to be expected as it was not a memory of the physical world. It was instead my memory of the hatchling's mind within the sea of souls as I had seen scant moments before panic took over. The physical memory was a reproduction of that – depicting the beautifully layered crystal clear sphere of ice that was his mind, memories, and soul along with the unfrozen clear waters within the shell of ice that seemed to almost wish to break its way out.

It may have lost some of its beauty as I tried to transition not only the sight of it but also the feelings extruding from it into a more physical view. Still, even if it did not turn out exactly as I envisioned it, it was definitely recognisable and beautiful in its own way, or at least it was to me.

I could only hope that the hatchling felt the same way.

I watched with barely concealed pride as the hatchling walked partway around the memory – pride that quickly turned into not so concealed shock when he stepped right on top of it. I let out a growl of warning which caused him to swiftly take his paw off my memory. Really, with how hard he had worked to draw his own physical memories I expected more respect from him for the memories of others.

I growled again, this time standing up and lowering myself into an attack pose, as the hatchling stepped on the line of my memory once more, stopping once he stepped off it. When he placed his paw on the line a third time, I was very close to snapping. My growl was much louder this time and it was with some satisfaction that I watched him flinch away and take a step back.

I really could not understand him. Back when I myself had been little more than a hatchling it did not take more than two rebukes from my sire to learn my lesson, and here was a human hatchling that was already approaching for his fourth!

I promised myself that this time I would let off a plasma bolt as a warning. Oh I would make sure it was the smallest size I could make – completely safe unless you aimed it into someone's uncovered eye – but if he did not learn from that, well there was little I could do then.

I didn't need to worry though, this time the hatchling carefully stepped over the line of my memory and freezing in place glanced up at me. I pondered briefly about it before letting off a croon to let him know that was alright. It wasn't as if he was messing up the memory after all.

As I stood there watching, the hatchling took a step, and then another – slowly picking up speed and with a few more steps began to twirl across the physical memory of his soul. In a word, I was captivated. The twirling movements of the hatchling seemed random and yet at the same time it was as if they were a part of an intricate pattern – almost like the flickering dance of emotions through his mind, and I guess my own as well. Faster and faster the hatchling moved, adding slight smudges to grass – making the roughly drawn memory more real.

The next thing I knew, we were in the middle, me looking at him from just above his head and him with his back facing me. I do not know why, but somewhere through his dance I joined in, trying my hardest not to step all over my own memory, and yet unable to prevent my tail or my paws from dragging along every now and then – carving out a line, and then another. We twirled around, spiraling all over the memory, almost imperceptibly altering it until it no longer resembled the original, but instead forming into something else… something greater.

Closer and closer we came, our spirals closing in on the center even though neither of us truly understood what was driving us to do this. We stopped when we were less than a paw-length away from each other. With a snort I blew air into the hatchlings hair, and he turned around to face me. The two of us, painted red in the light setting sun, just stood there; doing nothing but looking into each other's eyes – vibrant green staring deep into vibrant green.

I felt a longing deep within my mind that I could not explain, and wondered if perhaps the human hatchling felt the same.

When the hatchling cautiously extended his paw out towards me – so much like he had done moments after the _greeting_ – so similar and yet so different at the same time – I wondered if this time I would be able to accept the contact between our minds. Once more I could feel his soul approaching mine at the same time as the distance between my snout and his paw decreased. I flinched slightly and subconsciously growled at the human.

His paw drew back slightly, as did his mind – and I felt a pang of regret along with anger at my own irrational fear – the same fear that was the only thing standing between us now, for we have broken our way through everything else. I thought that it was over, that the human would break away and leave, but no – turning his head away from me he extended his paw again, stopping his movements when his paw was close enough for him to probably feel the air coming out of my nostrils as I breathed; his mind stopping just outside of mine as well. I widened my eyes as I understood what he was doing – he could feel my own insecurity and was letting me make the final move.

_Thank you hatchling; thank you for understanding._

It was all up to me – even as I stood rock still, the distance between us almost imperceptible (and yet at the same time an infinitely deep chasm that I was afraid of crossing), I knew that the hatchling would remain standing the way he was until either I reached out to him… or turned away.

And for giving me this choice, I thanked him.

The first try stopped before I could even begin it, as did the second. The third attempt pushed me closer before my irrational fear drove me back. It was only on the fourth attempt that my mind finally brushed past his.

It was only a single touch – barely even that – but it was enough. I did not even realize that Hiccup's paw was lying on my snout, as it was all I could do to not loose myself in the connection between our minds as they whirled around each other – a deep sky blue flame of my mind, and a deep oceanic blue water sphere of his; the fire and water meeting together in between our minds and mixing to form the connection.

A feeling of safety passes through me and makes me forget all the terror that I may have felt earlier. I do not even notice that both of our bodies vibrate in tune with the crooning I am involuntarily releasing, but even if I did I would not stop it.

For what feels like an eternity I drown myself in the emotions between us – both of us sharing the feeling of wonder and childish excitement. For the both of us it is our first true connection between minds, and both of us are loath to release it.

A moment later the feeling passes and the connection dissolves as our minds float further away from each other. The blissful moment that had lasted for only a moment and yet took an eternity to end is over, fluttering away like a daydream. I withdraw my snout from Hiccup's paw and turn away. There is nothing more to say or do.

I opened my wings and took off, gliding towards the other side of the cove where I had recently (or perhaps a lifetime ago) burned a circle of ash into the ground. The last time I took this glide, I felt terror, anger, and defeat. Now? Now there was only contentment.

I didn't even notice that my mind – so… tainted by the darkness within which it had lived most of its life, so close to shattering, was clearer. The cut off tendrils of darkness stuck deep within my mind and partially encircling my very soul that I felt I would have to live with for the rest of my life were no longer as _real_ as they were, some even disintegrating and burning away into fine ash to disperse into the infinite expanses of the river of souls.

What's more, throughout the entire day I had not even once thought about the insanity that I had been so close to plunging into. Whereas before it was always there – always impossible to forget, just like the missing tailfin that had brought it about; now it was nearly unnoticeable – requiring me to actually think about it to be able to feel the imperceptible itch of it upon my mind.

Considering that I had nearly forgotten about it, I did not feel it at all.

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* * *

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Hiccup stood still in a daze, his hand cradled against his chest – not in a protective gesture, but instead to try and preserve that indescribable feeling that had passed through him for the brief but nigh infinite moment when the Nightfury reached down and allowed him to touch it. No matter how he tried to hide it, when he had lowered his head and reached out, he felt a stab of fear that he would not be getting his arm back (or at least not in one piece). When they touched though, all of his fear was gone as if it had never been – gone and replaced by a feeling of safety and belonging. It felt like he had been frozen in ice for his entire life and only when the waters around him thawed did he notice just how close he had been to freezing.

Subconsciously he noticed that the Nightfury had flown back to its nest, but it really did not matter. There was nothing more for them to say between each other. Turning around Hiccup proceeded back to the entranceway where he picked up the empty basked and hoisted up the shield before grabbing at the tree roots and beginning his climb out of the cove. Even when he passed into the dried up overflow cut into the side of the wall, Hiccup did not glance back.

There was no need after all – both of them knew he would be back, and it really felt to him that if he caught a glance of the Nightfury right now, he would not be able to leave.

.

* * *

.

As the two of them walked off along their own paths away from the cut up floor, neither of them noticed how the image that Nightwing had so meticulously drawn into the ground had changed – looking almost like two spheres, one over the other. Two spheres that were so different, and yet at the same time, so alike.

The cascades of rain that night washed relentlessly over the memories carved into the grass, washing away more and more details until all that was left were some deep trenches that could not be easily covered up – deep trenches that no longer represented anything, for anything that could be seen within them had been destroyed.

The magic was gone, the beauty erased – the memory no more than a series of random lines.

Physical memories are always like that – lasting some time, but easily washed away, with none of them ever lasting for even a single fraction of forever. Not only physical memories really – all memories degraded with time until they stopped being memories at all.

And yet, it did not matter that the memory drawn on the ground was destroyed – after all, the experience that had spawned this memory was there, and there was nothing that could destroy that. One after the other, the ripples caused by the events that have transpired to spawn the now destroyed memory widened, catching others and causing them to form more ripples – for that is the way the world works.

Who knows what would have happened if a different choice was made on that day – perhaps there would have been no change… Or perhaps everything would be unrecognizably different. But all of that does not matter, for a single choice _was_ made, and the path decided upon.

Although she could not see any of this, she could still feel the path settling down within the pattern of her soul.

_Just a bit longer – and everything would be over._ She thought with a pang of sadness;

_But that's what you wanted, wasn't it? – To end it all – To rest… - To die. - … _Her other selves replied.

She smiled and the sadness turned to amusement.

_Perhaps, or perhaps not._

It didn't matter in any case – after all, they were all paper figures to her…

As real as the wind she had last felt across her barred soul countless _Cycles_ ago…

As real as the world around her.

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* * *

**A/N**

Yes, I had planned to make this all one chapter. Its size forced me to think long and hard about dividing it into two (probably around the episode with the shield, as there is a several hour long break between that and the next part), however as I had written in my personal summary before I even came close to writing this chapter, the 'forbidden friendship' episode simply MUST be done in one go. So here you go at a whopping 9.7k (whopping for me at least, I know there are some writers out there that consider 20k+ words per chapter as completely acceptable, but I consider most of those as each chapter being more of an story/arc in and of itself) – the longest chapter yet (and possibly the longest in the story, though who can really tell. The first few as of yet unpublished chapters I had written for this story are all 1.5-2.5k words each…).

Also, any variations that you find were done to simply make the story flow better. I thought about keeping this section exactly the same as in the movie (because let's face it – this scene in the movie was done so perfectly there is no way of making it better), but considering the differences in characters and setting between the movie and my story I simply had to change it to the way you just read. Hope you agree that even if it was not as good a scene as in the movie, I have done a good job of placing its spirit into the confines of my story.

As for the ending… I will let you think about who 'she' is.

Incidentally this marks the end of part 1 of the story (or part 1 of the 1st cycle really) which comes in at roughly 100k words (quite a lot considering that my original plan was to finish the story in 75k words. I never expected to enlarge it into something of epic proportions). The next chapter will be a somewhat short interlude before we continue onwards to part 2 of the 1st cycle (out of a grand total of 3). Then and only then will the second cycle begin which will be two parts in and of itself. The third cycle following that will be all 1 part, and is (funnily enough) the actual story that I had come up with when I first started writing. So if you really think about it I am going to have a 200-300k word 'prologue' to the original story I wanted to write…

E – as you do not have an account, I will leave a reply for your review here: Thank you. That means a lot.

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Saienai


	19. nth-2: Interlude - Uneasy Beginning

**~Ouroboros~**

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**N****th**** - 2. Interlude ~ Uneasy Beginning  
**

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Nightwing was still asleep when I woke up, and while that is uncommon enough, it is not what causes me to worry. No, what worries me is that we are surrounded by thousand year old trees in a small clearing. The calming sounds of the ocean that we have fallen asleep to are no longer there, replaced as they have been by soft wind rustling the leaves and distant bird cries.

Oh, I am used to waking up in places I have no memories of, but the 'falling asleep' part before those times is usually at least somewhat painful and most definitely not something I would have so easily forgotten – at least not so fast.

From the looks around me, it is obvious that a new _Cycle_ had begun. And really, that is what worries me the most – because I did not expect it to spring on us like this. For the first time (I think so at least – my muddied memories can only be relied upon so far) – for the first time I was not aware of the _Cycle_ coming to a close.

Even worse, I can feel something out of place. Something about this _Cycle_ is different…

It does not take me long to figure out what – the simple harness I made to tie us together for those particularly tricky flight maneuvers we love so much is still here, bundled up near the campfire as it had been before we went to sleep; as was the crude knife I made out of obsidian for the off chance that I would lose the original metal dagger that had always been with me.

Speaking of which – the campfire from yesterday was there… Cautiously I poke at the cold pile of ash and coal to make sure that I am not just imagining things. Every time a new _Cycle_ starts everything returns back to the way it was in the beginning (or at least as so far as we remember) – meaning that the harness, knife, even the remains of yesterday's campfire should not be there.

I shake off the feelings of foreboding and gingerly standing up so as not to wake Nightwing proceed to grab the obsidian knife before stalking off into the forest. There would be time to discuss the inconsistencies once Nightwing wakes up – and before that happens I can at least catch us some breakfast.

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* * *

.

Completely silent, I stalk through the forest – mindful of any twigs or unstable rocks along the ground that could reveal my position. A familiar sense of expectation and excitement passes through me; making it feel as if there is a tightly coiled spring inside me just waiting to be released. Looking around I can tell with uncountable years of experience that a herd of deer has been through not too long ago – as well as several rabbits and at least one lynx.

Personally, I think a nice young deer would be an acceptable breakfast for the both of us – it would after all take quite a few rabbits to satisfy Nightwing, and something within me balks at hunting another predator… At least not when there are other options – and while lynx meat is not as satisfying as say deer or fish, it still sates your hunger. To be honest, the two of us must have tried just about all types of meat and fish available in the world – possibly human too, though I can't remember the actual occurrence. I do remember tasting dragon though – more because of the weird funeral rites of that _Cycle_ than any other reason, though I doubt it was the first (or the last) time.

An infinite life certainly did wonders to break away all of our innate inhibitions…

I close off that chain of thought as I hear bleats coming from in front of me and spot the small herd of deer – fourteen of them resting in a clearing nearby. My body must have subconsciously continued tracking them while I was l was lost in my thoughts, as I found myself in the bushes near a tree overlooking the clearing – the forest around me completely unfamiliar to me.

Some may have considered me as lost at this point, but it was impossible for me to get lost – or at least impossible for me to not be able to find my way back to Nightwing. Together we can quite easily get lost – and in fact have often times spent entire _Cycles_ not knowing where we are, not that it really mattered. Still, no matter how far apart we are from each other all it takes is for me to close my eyes and I can easily point in the direction Nightwing is in – be he right next to me or across the world.

All of that of course in addition to our minds always swimming securely latched to each other within the river of souls – I can even tell that Nightwing is still sleeping through our connection to each other; but never mind that now.

Reaching into my jacket I unhook the obsidian knife and glancing over at the herd, I pick out my prey – a young deer at the edge of the clearing that ended up lying quite close to my position. Better still, it seemed to be lame in one foot as one of its back legs was stretched awkwardly to the side in a fashion that would have made me wince if I haven't seem worse many times over. Still, I knew it would be almost kindness for me to take its life as I knew the death I would deliver would be much faster than other alternatives hiding in the forest.

Closing my eyes I focus my mind, and breathing deeply strengthen my bones and muscles to be able to handle what I am about to do. Opening my eyes I focus on them as well and watch with satisfaction as color bleeds out of the world around me, the sounds becoming deeper and more prolonged; the flutter of the leaves slowing down.

With another breath I launch myself at my prey, my claw held in a reverse grip in my left paw. The deer does not even have time for a single startled bawl before the nook formed between my paw and the claw within it slams into the deer's neck. A single slashing motion on my part results in a large gash opening up in its neck, and it is over.

Even as the others in the herd scatter away I step away from the deer, expertly dodging the splattering blood that quickly turns into a slow trickle as the heart stops. As color returns to the world around me I wait for my prey to stop twitching before grabbing it by the legs and hoisting it to rest on my shoulders. Almost without thinking about it I reach into our minds and locate where the two of us are in relation with each other. Carefully wiping off my knife I clip it back to my jacket before turning around and walking off.

Halfway back I pause as I feel a prickling in the back of my neck, and turning around I find a lynx on one a branch of one of the trees surrounding me. I almost smile – it has been a long time since I had last feared any predator, and that list includes humans and dragons as well. Heck, even death can be listed within it.

Seeing as the lynx was about to jump on what it believed to be easy prey I narrow my eyes much the same way Nightwing would and grin as I spot the now fleeing hunter. A human would not have been scared off so easily, but then again, it's not like it would have made much of a difference in the end except for a cooling body on the floor.

Still, it does not matter. Turning back to the way I was going I continue trudging my way back to camp.

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* * *

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I wake up without Heru at my side, and am instantly on high alert. Not because of his disappearance – I can feel him somewhere around coming back with a feeling of satisfaction around him – no, what worries me is the forest surrounding our camp. Instinctually I know that the last _Cycle_ had come to a close and another one had come, and yet the presence of the campfire unnerves me.

_So it has progressed this far…_

I had breached this subject with Heru before, but he had never taken me seriously. I understand him – really do, after all were I a human I would possibly scoff at it as well – but being a dragon there are some instinctual memories within me that make me understand what is happening much better than anyone else. Knowledge buried deep within the soul of each dragon, only coming to light if the soul is chosen as mine has been.

Our minds have mingled together and become inseparable countless _Cycles_ ago, forming a single _pattern_. However the _pattern_ was never meant to be drawn from two souls – never meant to have two holders.

I will have to talk to Heru about this again – the premature end of the last _Cycle_ shows that there is less time that I had hoped.

The bushes off to the side rustle and spotting Heru with a young deer across his shoulders and I decide to breach that topic later – after we have eaten.

Scratching at the birthmark upon my chest – a strange almost scar like line around which scales did not want to grow properly (I had asked Heru about it, but besides the darkening of his eyes I have not been able to get anything out of him about it – same with the claw marks on his chest), I walk off towards a nearby tree, picking one that is relatively young compared to the gargantuan beasts around us.

It does not take long for us to take apart the young deer, with Heru cutting out a nice chunk of meat to roast over the newly burning campfire made from the tree – several quick shots having brought it down and broken it into manageable chunks before Heru tossed some into an acceptable arrangement for me to set on fire.

While Heru waits for his portion to cook properly, I finish off the rest before plopping down on the other side of the fire to patiently wait for him to finish. If there was a single thing we both became masters in, it is the art of patience. How could we not if we wanted to remain sane?

"Something is bothering you – and don't say that its nothing, you know I can tell it isn't"

_:: Finish cooking your meat and eat first. It's not something to discuss over food ::_

"It's about the weird end of the last _Cycle_ and the start of this one right?"

_:: Later ::_

"Fine"

As Heru takes the time to flip the hunk of meat around for it to evenly cook, I look into his eyes and not for the first time marvel at how different they are from when this all began. I can remember with ease the almost childlike bright fern-green eyes he sported when I first met him – childlike but already with a carefully hidden _depth_ to them. A _depth_ hiding experiences and emotions he did not want anyone to see – even me.

Now though? That same _depth_ has taken over – I look into his dark moss-green eyes and see an infinite abyss that draws you in and threatens to swallow you. There is no need to find a lake or river for me to know that my eyes look the same way – or perhaps even worse.

_Of course they would be worse…_

Sometimes I am envious of the distinctly human qualities of Heru's mind. I have never told him – and never will – but one of the biggest differences between humans and dragons – a difference that can never be overcome – is that humans can forget. For humans their past experiences slowly blend together until they are completely forgotten. Some may say that that is a flaw of theirs, but I consider it as a blessing; for unlike humans, dragon memories remain crystal clear forever unless forcefully destroyed – something that cannot be done selectively.

I never told Heru that I can remember all _f12r2r8f6r5f3_ _Cycles_ that we have lived with perfect clarity. Every time I close my eyes I can (if I wish) see each and every one of them. I can see and experience both of us dying so many times that it no longer matters to me. What matters is the knowledge that even death will not separate us.

I can even remember the exact time when pain ceased to matter – when a red hot knife through the eyes became nothing more than an inconvenience until the next _Cycle_ sets things back again.

We certainly are twisted beings aren't we?

And yet… there are several _Cycles_ that I do not remember. I can tell because the memories are there, closest to the half-_pattern_ of my soul, layered beneath the infinite other memories of the _Cycles_ afterwards. They are there, and yet I cannot access them.

I have asked Heru about them before – wondering what it was during the first cycles that could have caused me to be unable to remember them – but the only reply I ever got was that those cycles are his sin – his burden to shoulder alone.

For that reason perhaps, I believe it is Heru's mind that is keeping me from those memories; whether consciously or subconsciously I will never know.

No matter – I will trust Heru's judgement on this – although I am curious about how we came to be together during those first _Cycles_, it does not really matter to me. What is truly important is that we are together – whether during our f1r13 _Cycle_, the current one, or the next few.

Funny considering how many of them we have lived through that they are coming to an end – I truly did expect to spend all of eternity like this.

"You know, I have been done for almost three hours now"

I turn to look at Heru and only now notice that the fire had long since gone out and the sun had moved quite noticeably in the sky.

_:: I was lost in thought ::_

Besides which he could have shaken me out of them once he finished in any case…

"You looked so peaceful; I didn't want to break you out of them"

There was no reason to ask how he knew what I was thinking – we knew each other as well as we knew ourselves – and when you have an infinite length of time for self-reflection, you get to understand yourself quite well.

_:: You noticed how this Cycle's beginning was different from before. ::_

Heru sighed

"So you still believe that the _pattern_ is slowly being corrupted."

_:: Yes, and I already told you want we need to do – we need- ::_

"Don't say it! You already know we can't do that." There was genuine worry in Heru's tone – worry and desperation.

_:: Can't or won't? :: _I knew the answer, but I wanted him to say it again. From the exasperation in his voice I knew that he knew the reason for my question – knew it and didn't like it.

"Both. Look – I told you before – It will all go away soon. It's been fine for countless _Cycles_, so why do you think it wouldn't continue that way for countless more?"

_:: - :: _I tried to reply but he over-rode my argument. It didn't really matter since he knew it already, but perhaps he just didn't want to hear it expressed aloud again.

"Do we even have to talk about it? "

I stared straight into his eyes and sent images of all the inconsistencies that have started popping up since I have last breached this topic – starting with the weirder and weirder endings for each _Cycle_, and ending with the cracks along the sky that were sometimes visible in the periphery of our vision within the river of souls. Fortunately they haven't appeared in the real world yet, but I knew it was only a matter of time.

Heru's gaze dropped and his shoulders slumped down in defeat.

"Fine – but not now. Perhaps tomorrow or the day after. It's not like the world will end any time soon. Let's just explore the place we started this time – perhaps we may even find some soul-based life somewhere during this _Cycle_."

I accepted, if only because I knew he would ignore me if I tried to bring it up again. Partially, he is right – there is still time to talk about it, time to weigh the options. However he is quite wrong about the rest – we do not have as much time as he imagines.

Certainly not enough to keep postponing the conversation like this.

Even as I stand up and walk over to let Heru attach the harness that will hold us together and watch him climb up to sit approximately between my shoulder blades, I can feel the _pattern_ breaking apart into two distinct parts – neither of which would be able to hold without the other, resulting in the disintegration of both.

While Heru is adequately familiar with the soul world, he is simply incapable of clearly seeing our actual souls that make up the _pattern_ – and without that, he cannot see just how bad the corruption has gotten.

No… if it continues speeding up as it had, I fear we do not have that much time at all.

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* * *

**A/N**

If you have not noticed it, this interlude follows the story told in the prologue, and will be continued in subsequent interludes to be finished in the epilogue. Yes, this story and the one told in the actual chapters is all tied together, although how may not become apparent until quite some time.

The reason for the weird number that Toothless links to the number of cycles they have already lived is because I wanted to show that he knew the exact number, while simultaneously not telling any of you guys the actual number (It doesn't really matter for the story – suffice it to say that it has been A LOT).

For those of you interested, the number is not random, and there is a pattern to translate it into a normal value. I have used the same style before several times, but this is the first truly large one. Incidentally, to the first person to figure it out (and post or pm me the correct number along with the way the conversion works) I will answer any three questions about the story – and by that I mean any, so you can ask about how it will end, who 'she' is, or whatever you want. I have quite a lot written down for the way the world works and the full plotline written out so… Just don't spread it out k?

As to the long wait… It was unavoidable. I had to write roughly 10 chapters worth of story that compose all the interludes, as I did not want to have to change them (too much) every time I had to post the next one. This way I am at least guaranteed a sense of continuity in the story that takes place amidst the prologue, interludes, and epilogue.

As always, thanks to all who read/reviewed/favourited/followed this story. For anyone interested, this marks the end of roughly an eighth of the entire storyline (by plot arcs, not words – by words it may be a fifth or so), with 76 reviews, 30 favorites, 25 followers, 6,411 views, and from what I can tell perhaps 150-200 actual readers. Grats to PokeThat for submitting the 75th review!

Expect a lot more differences between the movie and my story to appear in the next arc. As to the arc after that… let's just say it will be a different story all together at that point.

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Saienai


	20. 1st-18: Cripple and Weakling

**~Ouroboros~**

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**1****st**** Cycle ~ Part II: Promissio**

_I remember hearing a story once that stated that if you threw a frog into boiling water, it would jump out – but if you placed it into cold water and then slowly heated it up it would stay there until it died, never noticing the temperature changing around it? I do not know the validity of this story, and really it does not matter for the underlying premise of it is in fact true:_

_On our path through life we do not even notice that with every passing day the world around us imperceptibly changes – and if you think about it, that is the scariest truth of them all; because one thing leads to another, one day ends and another begins… By the time you realize it, it's too late – the world around you has changed so much that you do not even realize it. You are a stranger in a strange land, a citizen of a world that no longer exists…_

_… or perhaps it is you who has changed; have you thought of that?_

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**1****st**** – 18. Cripple and Weakling**

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Hiccup shivered as he stood still at the edge of the dried up riverbed opening up into the cove. From his position it was all too easy to spot the curled up Nightfury down below that seemed to be sleeping on the same circle of ash he had seen it burn out the day before. As he had promised himself, he had returned with another half full basket of fish, but now that he was here, his mind was once again assailed by doubt. Everything that he could remember happening during his meeting with the dragon yesterday – from the moment he entered the cove all the way to the strange and yet unforgettable feeling of inexplicable wonder when the Nightfury moved forward to touch his hand with its snout – all of it just seemed too surrealistic to be true, almost as if he had dreamed it all up. Heck, even his return back to the village didn't dampen the perfection of that experience – especially considering that Gobber easily accepted his hastily thought up excuse of needing some time alone as a reason for leaving Gobber by himself to work the forge. Not that it was all that unbelievable – it wasn't as if it hadn't happened before after all.

Perhaps it was the way everything seemed to go… _right_ for him throughout the entire day that made Hiccup question if it really happened. Well, that and the one hundred forty six ways he could have gruesomely died that his all too inquisitive mind came up with when he went over the meeting in his mind – the same one hundred and forty six ways that at the moment were flashing before his eyes as he contemplated placing his head in the proverbial (or not so proverbial as the case may be) dragon's mouth and hoping that everything would work out fine.

_Oh come on! It isn't as if this is the first time I have done this!_

Turning to the side he moved his foot in the direction of the hanging tree roots that would bring him down to the cove below – or at least attempted to move it since it did not listen, preferring to remain right where it was. With a sigh Hiccup turned back to look at the Nightfury which was still blissfully asleep and completely unaware of the battle going on in his mind.

With mounting frustration he unhooked the basket from his shoulders and lowered it to the ground before sitting down to lean against it and removing his journal. Opening up to the first available empty page he started sketching out the cove – his first drawing of this part of the forest; and by the distinctly different look of the first few lines he had already put down, quite different from the other sketches before it. He really hoped that by the time he was done with this drawing all of his frustration and fear would flow into the sketch and leave him capable of going down into the cove below.

Really – it wasn't as if he was afraid of the Nightfury… well, not _that_ afraid. It wasn't as if it was his fault that due to the abysmal behaviour of everyone in dragon training (with the possible exception of Astrid) Gobber had decided upon a slight deviation to his training plans. As such instead of a standard relaxing deathmatch against a dragon with Hiccup's almost obligatory attempt at committing assisted suicide in the ring, they were treated to a four hour lecture at the hands of Gobber.

Hiccup could remember almost word for word the veteran Viking going into vivid detail as to the natural weapons wielded by the different dragon types – typically followed by exceptionally graphical descriptions of what they could do to an unfortunate Viking that finds himself in the wrong place at the wrong time. He hadn't thought it possible to beat the nauseating effect of the dragon manual's blood and gore filled descriptions, but somehow Gobber managed it.

Hiccup had to hand it to his one armed mentor – if everyone came out of it the same way he did, and considering that even Snotlout's face seemed a curious mix of green and white by the end, Hiccup was quite sure on that point; it was highly likely and bordering on certainty that the next dragon they were forced to fight against would find six screaming youngsters attempting to scale the stone walls and squeeze their way through the metal fencing to get the Hel away from it.

It was quite lucky for him that the Nightfury below did not have any spikes and other clearly deadly extremities – a sharp contrast to just about every other species of dragons; otherwise it would have been treated to a dress rehearsal of Hiccup's expected actions in the next training session.

The almost... _cute_ way the dragon was curled up down below that strangely enough seemed to almost scream 'Harmless!' – At least to him – may have helped Hiccup keep the last tatters of composure as well.

That didn't mean he was approaching any closer though – Gobber's explanations about what even the most harmless looking dragon could do were enough to guarantee nightmares for at least the next week.

_'… and then there are the terrible terrors. If ye have ever seen or heard about how wolf packs can take down a group of even the strongest Vikings, then imagine the same thing just replace the wolves with a veritable horde of Terrors, crawling over each other to get to you, their gashing teeth coated with the blood and loose flesh of those that came before ya. Even as you swing your axe at the first ones you can feel the near tangible gazes of the rest as they zero in on their next prey, and you know that no matter how many ya manage to bring down there will always be hundreds more to replace them within seconds. Quite fortunate don't you think that few enough terror packs join in on the raids eh?_

_'Why, the last one was a few years back and I can still remember seeing the remains of those unfortunate enough to have been in their way – it wasn't so much of corpses on the floor… no, it was more like the entire road was littered with fleshy remains – whether human or dragon, who could really tell. Just imagine it – the air thick with the nauseating smell of burnt flesh and blood, and tattered remains everywhere; as if someone took an axe to them and kept chopping until-'_

Hiccup shuddered as he forcefully suppressed that particular memory before it continued on to the more graphical of Gobber's depictions, and attempted to file it all away into the 'sealed for sanity's sake' territory of his mind – the same area of his mind that somehow managed to triple in size after Gobber's lecture.

This time when he turned his mind towards the half-finished sketch in his journal and the last few heavy jagged lines he sketched out which added an almost foreboding look to an otherwise peaceful depiction of the cove, it was in the fervent hopes of focusing his thoughts on anything but the fuel of his future nightmares.

Hours stretched as Hiccup continued drawing sketch after sketch, having after a while completely suppressed his recent memories and forgotten the reason he came here in the first place. As it was, he was just beginning his fifth sketch this day when a single warble coming from below broke his concentration and slamming him forcefully back to reality.

Supressing the scream of surprise bubbling up in his throat Hiccup franticly zeroed in on whatever made that sound, causing him to lock eyes with the quite obviously awake Nightfury below that stared back up at him with its head tilted slightly to the side. Even as he tried to slow down his heart before it burst out of his chest while simultaneously supressing his desire to just _run_, a small but growing part of him wondered just why the dragon looked so… puzzled.

Puzzled and perhaps just a bit happy.

Not really expecting a reply Hiccup nodded slowly towards the dragon and was quite surprised to find it repeating the gesture back – surprised and reassured, for it had caused his mostly irrational fears to ebb as he remembered that although Gobber was unnervingly correct about the multitudes of ways it could kill him if it wanted to (having almost been a victim of several such ways already), it was really much the same way humans were.

_After all, if there was one thing I learned from our meetings, it's that the dragon is intelligent… meaning that I am quite safe as long as I don't anger it._

In a way the Nightfury below was much the same as Gobber – deadly towards anyone that threatens it, and yet mostly quite safe to those that it considers as its acquaintances, family or friends. Hiccup knew better than to underestimate the old veteran; even with half of his limbs gone Gobber was deadly during dragon raids, netting at least three dragons by himself and saving the lives of many a young Viking. Hiccup knew that he would run without looking back if he was told that Gobber was out for his blood, but that happened his mentor was quite safe to be around; much like the dragon below.

With a wince he realized the other unintentional similarity between them – both were crippled by a member of the other species; Gobber having lost his arm and leg to dragons while the Nightfury had its tailfin sheared off by him. Gobber was lucky enough to be able to replace his lost limbs no matter how inadequate they were to the real things, but there really wasn't anything to serve as a replacement fin for the Nightfury.

After all, in the case of the Nightfury an inadequate replacement fin was just about as useful as tying a rock to its tail.

As he pocketed his journal and hefted the basket of fish back onto his shoulders before making his way down, Hiccup wondered if he could do something about that – if there was one thing he was good at, it was designing and constructing devices that Gobber had once affectionately called harbingers of death and refused to comment as to _who_ they were supposed to deliver said death to. As it was, design plans were already swimming through his head based on what little he had seen of the other fin on the Nightfury's tail the day before.

Really though, he was likely the only person that could possibly make a replacement fin for the Nightfury – not only because even Gobber would have a nigh impossible time of deciding how to go about it, but also because anyone else available on this island would likely just rush at the dragon with a loud war cry and an axe held high the moment he or she saw it.

So really, by both skill and disposition he was the only one that could do this.

_Wait…_

Hiccup actually froze in place in the middle of climbing down the roots to the bottom of the cove when he realized that he had actually made the decision to try and allow the Nightfury to fly again. He didn't know what was more disturbing about that – that he was planning on giving flight back to the dragon currently in the lead on the amount of damage it caused to the village… or that his decision was not fueled only by regret as to the consequences of his actions but also a growing sense of kinship he could feel with the Nightfury.

_Shouldn't be surprised at that though, my growing worry about it getting enough to eat should have clued me in on that…_

Restarting his climb down Hiccup put the thoughts of an artificial fin for the Nightfury away – while it was something he was planning on making, he highly doubted the Nightfury would allow him to approach its damaged tail to take even take the measurements for the replacement, not to mention actually attaching whatever he made to the tail.

He would need a lot more trust between them before he could even begin attempting something like that.

Not for the first time he wondered if the Nightfury knew that he was the one who shot it down before shaking his head. _Of course not – I would have been dead the moment I released it if it knew that little tidbit of information._

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* * *

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Walking between the two boulders blocking the place where the roots dipped down from the rest of the cove was much easier now than the first time – mainly because he was quite sure that there wasn't swift and quite painful death lying in wait for him on the other side.

Well, the Nightfury was in fact lying in wait for him on the other side on the same spot he had seen it from above, but it wasn't quite the 'swift and painful' death he had thought it was before.

Throughout his entire approach towards it the Nightfury did not break its gaze from him, but neither did it do anything else – if anything it looked like it was content to just lie there until the end of time if that was how long it took Hiccup to cross the distance. It was only when he stopped in front of it and once more nodded towards it that it moved, responding once more with a single bow of its head of its own. A fleeing thought passed through his head as he wondered if the Nightfury was just mimicking his actions or if it actually understood what the gesture meant.

"Hi – beautiful afternoon isn't it? I just, you know… came here thinking we could spend some time together again" Hiccup said before hastily adding "if you don't mind of course."

Receiving a warble in reply that he took as a 'yes' from the happiness he could see in the Nightfury's eyes, Hiccup finally felt himself relax as muscles that he didn't even know were tense loosened.

"I brought some fish too in case you are hungry." He continued after heaving the basket off his shoulders and setting it down. Untying and removing the lid Hiccup stepped back and watched as the Nightfury stood up, performed a few stretches that looked distinctly feline to him and proceeded to make its way over.

Having missed it the last time, Hiccup watched in interest as the Nightfury carefully used its paw to roll the basket onto its side, spilling most of the fish onto the grass before it proceeded to chomp down on them, swallowing most in one or two bites.

_The Nightfury, the Nightfury… I really should find something to call you – something like Midnight would work probably, or perhaps Shadow…_

Making himself comfortable on the grass Hiccup continued to watch as the Nightfury demolished the pile of fish he brought it and mused some more on a good name – something that would show just how regal it was, or possibly complement its natural grace.

"You know… I've been thinking – I can't keep calling you Nightfury or 'dragon' all the time. Now I know you probably have a name for yourself – actually, do dragons use names? … No, never mind, it doesn't quite matter – since we can't talk to each other, do you mind if I give you a name I can call you by?"

Somehow, he was quite sure that the Nightfury understood him, as instead of grabbing another fish after gulping down the latest salmon, it instead turned towards him and tilting its head slightly to the side let off another croon through its half opened mouth. If it wasn't for the curiosity that he could feel from it, he may have been intimidated by the smudges of blood on the razor sharp teeth that he could see inside. Or perhaps not, as he was all too caught up in thinking of a good name to bother considering how perilous any 'normal' Viking would see the situation.

"So while you have been eating I juggled a few names around and if you like one of them just let off a warble or something as a sign and I'll use that."

Taking silence as agreement Hiccup proceeded onwards "So how do you like…"

Hiccup drifted off towards the end as he saw the Nightfury notice its partially opened mouth and retracting its teeth proceed to clean its snout with its slightly forked tongue.

"… Toothless…"

The word came unbidden to his mouth, and he instantly realized that it was the wrong thing to say as the Nightfury's eyes narrowed at him and a low growl started up from deep within its chest. "No no no – I wasn't suggesting that as a name! I saw how you retracted your teeth and the word just slipped out! I've seen you do it before but I was still surprised considering that other dragons don't do that." He paused there as doubt seeped into his mind – "Umm – do they?"

The Nightfury's harsh gaze looked at him and Hiccup was reminded of Gobber's glare after that unfortunate accident with one of his inventions that nearly took his mentor's other hand or head off. In both cases it felt like the one issuing the glare was seriously contemplating death or mutilation; unnerving to say the least. Hiccup's next few heartbeats seemed to last forever before he could breathe a sigh of relief when the growl faded away and the Nightfury's eyes softened once more, although there seemed to be quite a bit of sadness and melancholy in them now.

Taking the soft croon it released as permission to continue Hiccup took a few steadying breaths and continued. "Right… Anyway, so what do you think of Midnight?"

The Nightfury released a single low growl before opening its mouth – thankfully with its teeth still retracted; closing it a moment later.

"That would be a no right? Then… how about Shadow? Shade? Blackwings would also suit you I think…" The only reply back was a repeat performance of the Nightfury's response to his first suggestion, along with a growing sense of frustration emanating from the dragon.

"Then what about-"

A single roar, much louder than the previous growls pierced the air, startling Hiccup and causing him to stumble backwards. This time the Nightfury seemed almost furious when it opened its maw and proceeded to extend and retract its teeth several times before piercing him with a glare.

It took a moment for Hiccup to piece together what it wanted and push away the annoying flashes of his life from before his eyes that did nothing but mess with his concentration. "… Don't take this the wrong way – but do you _want_ to be called Toothless?" he asked hesitantly.

All the anger seemed to flee from Toothless to be replaced with sadness as he gave a single soft croon of agreement which seemed to contain within it almost tangible sadness. Breaking off his gaze with Hiccup, he turned around and walked back to the remains of the fish.

_Well that was certainly weird… _Hiccup thought as he watched Toothless completely ignore the human in the cove and instead proceed with gobbling down another fish, though with visibly less fervor than before. _Wonder why he decided on such a name for himself – it's not even a proper name, really._

Naming the Nightfury 'toothess' just did not seem right somehow – it made the dragon seem harmless; something that the Nightfury definitely wasn't. It made it sound like the Nightfury literally did not have any teeth – as if it was weak…

_Weak or… crippled. _He thought with a wince.

Now that he stumbled across that thought, he couldn't let it go. It made perfect sense though, in a twisted kind of way – Toothless picked that name for himself to remind himself of his inability to fly, to remind himself of his own weakness. Now that he understood that, Hiccup saw the name the same way – as something that would remind him of the consequences of his own actions.

He had half a mind made up to walk over to Toothless and tell him to pick a different name before another thought struck him. In a way, naming a dragon Toothless was much the same as naming a Viking Hiccup wasn't it? Neither name spoke much good about the one assigned it.

Hiccup snorted darkly to himself – Toothless and Hiccup – a crippled dragon and a weak human; what a pair they made.

The names really seemed to fit them somehow…

_So be it then – if you want to be called Toothless, then who am I to deny you that?_

Time passed quickly after that – or perhaps it would be better to say that they felt too awkward with each other to just sit around. Toothless finished off the fish and carried the empty basket over to Hiccup before walking off to coil back up to sleep, trying hard to ignore the human presence in his cove.

_Perhaps tomorrow would go better… _Hiccup thought as he threw the empty basket over his shoulder and walked off towards the village. If there was any doubt about his plans to allow Toothless to fly again, they were completely gone by now. He would give back what he had so selfishly stole from the dragon, and once he accomplished that he would bury the name 'Toothless' and grant the Nightfury a name worthy of him. Perhaps 'Shade' or 'Nightwing' would work – after all no one but him has ever seen the Nightfury when it flew through the dark skies above Berk.

And perhaps if he accomplished that, after Toothless was once more free to fly through the air like he was born to; perhaps Hiccup himself could discard his own name as well – after all, what kind of name was Hiccup?

Almost as bad as Toothless it was.

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The next few days Hiccup spent going to dragon training in the mornings and going over to the cove every afternoon, stopping only briefly in between to grab a bite to eat and partially fill yet another basket with fish. Although it pained him to say so, no one other than Gobber had even noticed his daily escapades into the forest (and more specifically, a certain dragon's cove) – and even Gobber did not say anything about them other than a single 'be careful out there' when he left today. In a way it was for the best – it would after all be difficult to explain why he carried off a basket of fish into the woods every day; and yet it saddened him that no one really cared enough to notice him missing.

Still, he wondered how many more times he would be able to take such large quantities of fish from the store houses before someone noticed their loss; or worse still, caught him actually taking them. Even though he cut down on the amount of fish he brought Toothless, it was still roughly the amount that Gobber ate in a couple of weeks – and Hiccup needed that much each and every day…

It was really only a matter of time until someone clued in and things got more difficult, but for now Hiccup found himself enjoying the simple schedule he got going.

After that awkward day when Toothless decided upon his name, Hiccup found himself spending more and more time together, his visits having gained an almost ritualistic quality to them. Every visit went the same way, he would arrive at the entranceway to the cove with his basket of fish, holler off a greeting towards Toothless who would return it with a garble of his own, and then proceed to climb down the roots to the floor of the cove.

Once there he would 'offer' the fish to the dragon who Hiccup had quickly found out had very clear definitions as to whose food was whose; as in he wouldn't touch the fish unless Hiccup made it clear that it was for him. Afterwards he would watch Toothless eat his dinner, soon followed by Hiccup taking a seat against one of the larger rocks in the cove to settle down and start drawing it from yet another position while Toothless would do whatever he felt like. Hiccup's journal was rapidly filling up with pictures of the Nightfury just about everywhere in the cove – coiled up in the grass, crouching down on one of the boulders, washing himself in the lake…

Today though, he was going to try something different – something that was completely necessary for any plans involving the artificial fin to take off the ground (both figuratively and literally), and yet something that he was afraid to do since he had no idea what the dragon's reaction would be.

"Hey Toothless…" Hiccup trailed off and paused until he heard a croon from the dragon that had today decided to perch on top of the same boulder Hiccup was leaning against. "Don't bite my head off for asking, but could I see your tail?"

He could feel shock from Toothless, soon followed by general unease which he took to mean that his request has been denied. That was yet another thing he discovered – apparently dragons communicated with emotions or something like that, for whenever he was close to Toothless he could literally feel certain emotions like anger, happiness, unease, and puzzlement amongst many others that he knew did not come from him.

It actually took him longer than he would have thought it would to realize that those emotions came from the dragon, or perhaps faster than he should have expected. It was after all impossible at first for him to know whether an emotion was coming from his own mind or from Toothless', and it wasn't until he started wondering just why he was feeling hunger and anticipation whenever he came into the cove that he got an inkling of what was going on. After that though it got easier, with him aware of what was going on Hiccup was able to feel the difference between them and know who the perpetrator of each particular emotion was.

In a way, it provided them with a rudimentary method of communication where Toothless seemed to understand everything he told him, while Hiccup was left to rely on the Nightfury's body language and emotional state to figure out what he wanted to say. Not the best way of communicating; certainly not enough for them to hold a conversation with… and yet it did not take Hiccup long to get used to it.

Not that they talked much in either case, both preferring to just stay close to each other and take comfort from having someone else around them. For Hiccup it was the first time in his life after his mother's death that he had someone he could just _be_ _with _like that. No annoyance, no expectations… Just unconditional acceptance. If he had to compare it to something he had experienced, Hiccup would probably think of the time Val would pick him up and cradle him, neither saying anything as they sat and watched the sunset.

That time was long gone now, and even the memory of it was obscure at best. Still, at least he managed to find someone else he could sit around with like that – even if that _someone_ was a fire breathing demonic creature, at least according to Viking lore.

The shadow of the Nightfury moved off from him, and Hiccup did not need to turn around to know that Toothless had climbed down from the boulder as seconds later the dragon's lithe form came around from the side and lay down in front of him. For a moment Hiccup fidgeted as the dragon's piercing glare seemed to bore twin holes in his head, but then the gaze softened slightly and with a single soft warble Toothless moved his tail around to lie in between them.

Hiccup's eyes flickered between Toothless and his tail, noting the dragon's eyes carefully watching his every move. He supposed it made sense; Toothless had already lost one tailfin and was definitely not in a hurry to lose the other one, even though it wasn't of much use by itself. Hesitantly reaching out with his hand he pulled back immediately when he felt Toothless' unease, though the way his earflaps began to drop down to his neck and a soft growl started up did get Hiccup to withdraw slightly faster than he would have otherwise.

"Ok ok – Can you just open up the tailfin so I can sketch it then?" Hiccup said, and Toothless obliged by fanning out the single fin left on his tail and turning it slightly to allow Hiccup to see it better.

"Thanks-" Hiccup murmured absentmindedly, his mind already deep into the process of taking in the scene in front of him and his hands busy with nigh a conscious thought directing them. Before he even noticed it, he had already flipped to a new page of his journal and started putting down the first lines of his sketch – just a general outline for now, although he was planning on eyeballing the measurements later on as well. He could only hope that Toothless would allow him to get closer to the tail sometime in the future to get a more precise drawing done – somehow he doubted that an artificial fin that was only roughly the correct size would be enough.

Throughout the entire time he was sketching the tail, Toothless' eyes never strayed from him; although Hiccup could feel the dragon's sense of unease at allowing anyone close to his tail be replaced with slight curiosity – likely wondering just why Hiccup was doing this. One of the first things that Hiccup found out about Toothless was that he was quite fascinated by Hiccup's sketches, and probably did not understand just why Hiccup would want a sketch of his crippled tail.

Even so, Toothless allowed Hiccup to continue, and Hiccup was glad for that. It would after all make his self-prescribed job that much easier. Perhaps if he made a rough model and brought it around, Toothless would be more willing to allow him to come closer to the tail.

By the time the sun started setting below the treeline, Hiccup had several completed drawings that he could work off of, though without actually handling the tailfin (something he knew Toothless would not allow him to do) he would have to take several guesses as to the materials he could use, along with most of the measurements. _The ribs of the fin will have to be made from metal – wooden rods would break too easily considering how thin they would have to be; the fin membrane on the other hand would have to be some type of leather… _He just hoped that the inconsistencies in weight and construction as compared to the real thing would be within a range that Toothless could work around and get used to.

"Well, I'm done with the sketches. Thanks for trusting me on this Toothless." He said, receiving only a warble in response as the Nightfury flicked its tail back with a feeling of relief that washed over Hiccup. Stretching backwards to get rid of some kinks in his back that had settled in while he was busy sketching Hiccup took note of the low position of the sun along with the stretching shadows that were almost at the point that they swallowed the entire floor of the cove whole. It was way past time for him to get back to the village – for while he was sure that no one would go off looking for him if he didn't come back before sunset, Hiccup didn't fancy making his way back in the dark.

Besides, there was work to be done. "I'll see you tomorrow alright? Have to get back to the village before the sun sets."

Another croon, along with a feeling of sadness was Toothless' response.

"Well I have to – sure they don't notice my wanderings into the forest every day, but _someone_ would notice if I didn't come to dragon training in the morning. At least Gobber would… Besides, I promise to come earlier tomorrow so we can spend more time together."

The feeling of sadness ebbed, but some still remained along with an oddly muffled feeling of gloom. Hiccup could understand that – he felt the same way as well after all. Even with the noticeable decrease of actual dragons in dragon training there was little else he would have liked better than to be allowed to drop out. Besides how pointless the training felt to him, each moment wasted in training was one moment that he could have been spending with either Toothless or working in the forge on the artificial tailfin – now that he finally had some drawings he simply couldn't wait to get started.

As he climbed out of the cove Hiccup wondered just how messed up his life really was, considering that his closest friend was a Viking killing dragon that he had almost become the latest victim of. That of course did not say quite a lot about their state of friendship, which was closer to acquaintances at the moment; instead it spoke more of just how messed up his life in the village was.

_No wonder really that I befriended the first being that did not consider me a burden… or a disaster waiting to happen._

He still couldn't decide if shooting down a Nightfury was a blessing or a curse, but there was one thing he knew for certain – whether for better or for worse, his life was never going to return to the way it was before.

Not that he would want it to in any case – for the first time in three years Hiccup felt _alive_ once more.

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**A/N**

I am back! What with my work on several research papers I doubt I will have as much time to work on this story as I wanted, so I will have to post a chapter per week, and if I miss a week… well… just know that I am quite busy with the annoyances of 'real life'.

In some ways I was hesitant at just making them jump into friendship like that (single 'fated' meeting followed by more or less acceptance), but the way I see it, Toothless has always wanted someone to share his journey with (having left his parents and never met anyone else before) and is barely an adult yet (though his body is that of an adult, his mind has been 'lagged' due to the darkness takeover). Hiccup on the other hand realistically just wants someone who can accept him, and like a child creating an imaginary friend or befriending a cat, feels drawn to the only being that seems to notice him – the Nightfury. Note that Gobber is slightly too old to really be considered a friend. Hope that makes sense, and really hope I made that clear in the actual story (I really do not want to rely on author's notes to tell the story…)

Thanks to everyone who reviewed, and especially MidKnightz who had actually attempted to translate the 'draconic' number system into our normal base 10 number system. Brought a tear to my eye (in a good way) that review did.

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That's enough from me for now,

Saienai


	21. 1st-19: The Depths of my Sins

**~Ouroboros~**

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**1****st**** – 19. The Depths of my Sins**

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The next week passed by almost monotonously for Hiccup – dragon training in the mornings… and dragon visits in the afternoons. Gobber had scaled back on live dragon fights during training, instead focusing more on having them build up muscles and practice wielding their weapons with the rare lectures thrown in to spice the otherwise dull days. The idea was to impart upon them the invaluable lessons that Vikings have learned over their three generations of fighting – and dying – against dragons, though often times they degraded to something akin to stories told over fire.

Personally, Hiccup preferred this – there was after all less chance of suffering sudden (or possibly quite painful and prolonged) death when running in circles along the main roads of the village or when swinging an axe as compared to facing actual dragons in the kill-ring. Naturally at the end of training he felt like Toothless had shot off one of his blue fireballs down his throat and his muscles felt like they would give out during the next couple of steps and just spontaneously turn into water, but fortunately for him several hours of rest along with some quality food would bring him out of the 'walking corpse' stage.

One of the more welcome surprises that week, not counting the fact that he still wasn't spotted taking fish from the store houses every day, was the discovery that while he was definitely weaker than the others; _Big surprise that, I know_; he actually had better stamina. He could easily last longer than them and recovered faster from their training – working with Gobber in the forge days on end must have done him more good than he thought.

On the other hand his visits to see Toothless were met with mixed success. The tailfin incident was never mentioned again, but Hiccup found that Toothless was becoming more and more restless as time went on. Whereas on the first few days the two of them could literally spend hours just sitting close as Hiccup sketched whatever caught his attention while Toothless snoozed on nearby, lately Toothless seemed to be incapable of staying still for a long time – shuffling around whenever he lay down – almost as if he could not find a position comfortable enough. Every ten minutes or so he would stand up with a huff and pace around the cove until he found another place to lie down, only to repeat the process again and again.

Just a few days ago Hiccup noticed that a few of the older trees in the cove had their bark torn away with deep gashes along the bare trunks that were quite obviously recent from the way sap still seeped from them. Considering that no other creatures large enough to do that much damage could come into the cove, the only answer as to who caused this left Hiccup uneasy as it reminded him of just how dangerous the dragon really was and spawned worry about his own safety that he had thought he had buried long ago.

Worse still, a day after that when he had visited the Nightfury it had actually stalked behind him when he came into the cove and had him pinned down to the ground before he could even realize what was happening. Of course it moved off of him right away and sitting down close by gave him a cute look; but for a moment when their eyes first locked together and its claws were just a hair breadth away from piercing into his chest once more, Hiccup thought he saw mindless fury within those slits that promised nothing but a quick and brutal death.

For that single moment, there was no doubt in his mind that he was about to die – for there was no doubt in the alien eyes staring at him either. No doubt, no emotion; nothing but some sort of primal instinct – if he could call it that. It was akin to looking into the eyes of a wolf that was aiming for your throat – no anger or hate, just a bestial desire to kill what it perceived as its prey.

Frankly, those eyes scared him more than the imminent death did, and that night his sleep had been plagued with them – and not just in the Nightfury's eye sockets ether, everyone he saw in the village also had those eyes. Strangely enough his dreams were not horrifying so much as sad – for the dead eyes staring at him out of Toothless' body was infinitely scarier than even Gobber with those same eyes. He didn't even notice any difference between his father's regular eyes and the hollow ones in the dream, though dreams never really made any sense to him in any case.

The day after that incident Hiccup had actually dreaded having to return to the cove. Not that that stopped him, but he had arrived an hour later than usual and left quite quickly afterwards even though nothing strange happened that time and Toothless had begged him to stay longer – at least if pleading eyes, a low croon, and a pang of sadness constituted begging.

Fortunately last night had been dreamless once more which at least meant he did not have to wake up with irrational fear once more. The elder always proclaimed there is some deeper meaning or memories of a past life within dreams, but if there is one thing that Hiccup had learned from them it was that a good night's sleep without them was the best case scenario he could hope for. The latest dreams of course did nothing but reaffirm his belief in this.

Sufficiently rested for once, Hiccup walked over to the kill ring for this morning's training, idly wondering just what awaited him this day – both in training and in the cove. Gobber had told them to gather at the kill ring today instead of out at the sheep pastures, and Hiccup honestly hoped that did not mean that they would be returning to actual _dragon_ training today. He knew they would have to at some point, but any day that they didn't was a good day for him.

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"Alright you all! Gather around! Now I am sure you will all be glad to know that the quite honestly boring exercises that ya had to do this past week are coming to an end and hopefully you are all ready to get back to something more exciting!" Gobber's voice echoed across the kill ring from his position in front of the Gronckle's cage, and the six trainees took a wary step back at the mention of 'excitement'. By now they all knew what constituted as exciting for their trainer, and in many cases even Snotlout would agree that the more exciting a situation was, the higher the likelihood of death was for them.

"Now now, there is no need for that" Gobber said removing his hand from the lever that would have released the dragon, all the while grinning at their reactions, "While I am sure you are all excited to get started, I do have to let you down on that – you won't be seeing a dragon until tomorrow. Today on the other hand will be the last of my lectures! So you better all be in the Meade hall when I finish checking the dragon cages here."

Hiccup and the rest of the group shuffled warily around, clearly expecting Gobber to just spring the dragon on them in any case. Seeing this Gobber frowned and bellowed out "Well!? I hope you are not all waiting for me to personally guide you out!" before hobbling off to inspect the door to the Nadder's cage that stood locked up next to the Gronckle's.

As Hiccup wandered off with the others towards the Meade hall which was incidentally almost half the village away, he couldn't help but wonder why Gobber hadn't just told them to meet him there in the first place instead of at the kill ring. He really wouldn't put it past his mentor to have done it for no other reason than to see their faces when they thought he was going to sic the dragon on them, but it was always possible that Gobber's decision not to have them fight the Gronckle had been just a spur of the moment thing.

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Gobber arrived to find his six trainees demolishing the remainders of breakfast and smiled slightly at that. It was quite obvious that they did not quite believe him that there would not be any actual training this day and were preparing just in case – he had after all done that several times and watched as the hungry younglings staggered along while he yelled at them that a Viking should be ready for a dragon raid no matter when.

As with all other groups he had taught over the years, it only took one lesson to teach them this – he could still recall the shockingly graphical death threats aimed at him when he gathered them up several hours after sunset and got them to run around the village with their weapons in hand wearing whatever they have when he bodily threw them out of their warm and comfortable beds. Still, they would thank him later - as several of the older groups he taught had after their first few raids.

Those that didn't were either too proud to… or dead.

Grabbing himself a small keg of ale to keep his throat from becoming parched Gobber walked over to his trainees and sat down across from them, causing them all to give him their undivided attention.

"Well it certainly is nice to see you all fed and watered – glad to see that you took our moonlit jog to heart" He stopped here and bathed in the death glares directed towards him, taking them all as further proof of a job well done.

"Hopefully this week of training has gotten you prepared to face off against another dragon – and do a better job at it than the two abysmal attempts you had at the beginning. I expect all of you to put everything I have taught ya about dragons into training from now on, so no running around screaming, no poking snide remarks at each other, and most definitely no moments of inattention.

"I expect ya all to know exactly where the dragon is at any point during training, where it is headed, and the best way ya can take advantage of that. Finally, I expect ya all to work as a group – there is a very good reason for why there are six of you against a single dragon, and that reason aint to give the dragon more targets to shoot at! I swear to Thor almighty that if I see any of you acting like you have against the Gronckle or the Nadder a week ago, ye will all be running around the village for a month before I let you near another dragon again!"

He punctuated the last points with several slams of the mug tied on to the stump of his left hand against the table before nodding firmly and refilling the now empty mug from his keg – all the while basking in the total silence around him. Even the few Vikings at the other tables lowered their voices when they noticed him teaching his group.

Chugging down half of the refilled mug so as not to waste good ale on the floor as we waved his hands around, Gobber continued. "Up until now I have taught ya several things about fighting dragons – namely the main characteristics of each of the common dragon types, their methods of attacks, the best ways for you to avoid said attacks, and the best ways of fighting against a dragon based on the type of dragon encountered, the amount of dragons you have to face, and of course the amount of Vikings on your side.

"All of that leaves just a single topic for me to cover before ye'r all ready to face the Hideous Zippleback in the ring tomorrow. If any of ye have even glanced at the dragon manual that I _told_ y'all to read right at the beginning of training, ye should be able to tell me what that topic is.

Glancing around Gobber could see that Snotlout and the Thorston twins had no clue from the way they seemed to be enchanted by a particularly interesting wood grain pattern of the table. Astrid seemed to know the answer but as always would probably wait for someone else to try before her, and Hiccup seemed to have something on his mind other than Gobber's lecture.

"Oh I know! Weak-points!" As Fishlegs gave off the answer Gobber nodded absentmindedly while noting to himself to talk to his apprentice later on about whatever was troubling him. Really though, he couldn't even remember a time when there _wasn't_ something troubling Hiccup… Well, there was nothing he could do but try and handle what he could and assume the rest of the problems would resolve themselves.

"Aye! Now that y'all know about how to survive against a dragon, the next step would be knowing were to attack them! I want y'all to be able to not only survive, but also to knock them down and keep them that way! Skipping over the Terrible Terrors because honestly speaking any clean hit would kill them – it's their numbers that you have to worry about; let's get straight into Gronckles.

"As ye should all know by now, Gronckles have the strongest armours out of all the dragon types, so they are quite difficult to put down. I cannot stress enough the stupidity of going against one with a sword or a spear – not that I recommend those weapons against any other dragon either. Your best bet would be heavy weapons such as axes or war hammers to deal blunt damage with a lot of force behind them. Now normally ye aint got much choice of where to aim; but if you do, go for either the skull or their throat. The head is covered by an exceptionally thick plate of armour, but a heavy hit would stun the Gronckle allowing ya access to its throat, which is the least plated location besides the place where its legs meet its chest – but those are rarely available for attack.

"Ya lot got all that? Because it was frankly embracing when I saw y'all running around like chickens with their heads cut off when pitted against a Gronckle in the ring – I mean, not even a single one of ya managed to land a single good hit on it! The best you could do was the half assed attempt at confusing it with noise, and even that mostly landed you in more danger as ya couldn't predict where it was going to shoot its fireball next! As I told you several days ago and will likely tell you again until it sticks in yer brains, do not do anything that would make the dragon act in a way you cannot predict unless ye know what ye'r doing! …And trust me when I say lining up to get shot is not an example of knowing what ye'r doing."

The rapid nods sent his way did not do much to decrease Gobber's worries (not that he let any of them show on his face), but the only thing he could do was hope that his lessons would remain in their minds during the next few actual dragon training sessions. From there the run against an actual dragon would ensure the lessons stuck around.

After tomorrow's Zippleback which Gobber knew never actually lit the gas it released (fortunately for them all, as the surrounding net over the ring would need major repairs after a couple of explosions of that size), he would send his trainees against the Gronkle and the Nadder again several times before giving them a day off with the single Terrible Terror. Maybe throw in the Zippleback somewhere in between for flavour as well. Hopefully a regime like that would convert the theory he spoon fed them into practical experience.

After that though… It would be time to pit them against the One-wing and see how many of them survived. Naturally he hoped that they would all get through with only minor injuries, but being a realist he knew that the chances of that happening were roughly the same as of a dragon suddenly deciding to not kill a Viking it had at its mercy.

In other words, too close to zero to even consider outside of daydreams and fantasies.

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Hiccup sat at the edge of the group next to Fishlegs and absentmindedly scratched at the table with a broken piece of chicken bone from this morning's breakfast, listening intently to Gobber's lecture. The previous few lectures were a literal treasure trove of information that may save him from death during the upcoming daily survival games against a dragon, and while he _knew_ that after meeting Toothless he would never be able to actually kill a dragon, the current lecture was still important – after all he would have to make it seem as if he was putting his all into dragon training while at the same time making sure that he did not accidentally kill one (no matter how unlikely _that_ was).

So far he made a note to himself that the only method virtually guaranteed to never kill a dragon would be to go against one with a sword or a dagger – not that Gobber would allow either into the ring. Other than that he seemed to remember that the neck was a weak point for every single known dragon type except for Boneknappers which used dead Gronckle bones (amongst others) to protect their known weak-points. Not that Gobber would even mention them in his lectures, the last Boneknapper was seen even before his father became chief. Long enough that even scary stories told over a fire switched from them to Whispering Deaths (the last of which was seen when Hiccup was four) to keep up with the times.

"… the Deadly Nadders on the other hand are almost the opposites of Gronckles, being exceptionally nimble and preferring to fight from far instead of getting in close. Of all the common dragon types besides Terrors they have the weakest scales with almost no armour except for the quills along their tails and spine. As such, if ye actually manage to get up close to one, ye can kill or mortally wound it by striking out at its heart through the chest area, slitting its throat, slashing at its wings for shock value, or simply stabbing it through the head. Of course its speed and exceptionally deadly tail make it dangerous to stay up close, but the size and weight of its tail do not allow it to move as fast as it would like – meaning that if ya dodge a strike from its tail ye have a few seconds before the return strike when you can attack.

"As with all the other types of dragons, the head and the neck are the simplest areas of attack for Nadders, mainly because going at it from the front means that you won't be within the line of fire of its quills along with the ability for ye to come in unnoticed if ye manage to stay within the blind spot offered by the horn on its nose. As I have told y'all before – unlike the other dragons for whom the best direction of attack is from the side due to their reliance on fireballs and their focus on the danger in front of them, for the Nadders it is the opposite due to their tail quills which can only be shot to its left or right. And trust me when I say that those quills are deadlier than its fire."

Hiccup shivered at Gobber's words, remembering the aftermath of the dragon raid a couple weeks back and the two Vikings nailed to the walls with Nadder quills. It was only his luck and speed during dragon training that saved him from the same fate when he foolishly forgot about the dragon and instead opted to question Gobber about the Nightfury, throwing his caution and almost his life to the wind.

Sure the way its fireball melted down his axe was frightening (mostly because a few feet to the side would have resulted in it being his head), but the way he could literally feel the needles hitting the ground just a hairbreadth behind his flashing feet and the fear that the next one's aim might be just a tad better scared him even worse than staring into the open maw of the Gronckle when it nearly blew his head off with its fireball.

Amusing wasn't it that he had stared death in the face from every single type of dragon with the exception of Terrible terrors which haven't really shown up in force since a few years back, and the Hideous Zippleback which he did not yet have the _honor_ of crossing paths with.

Well, considering Gobber's words, tomorrow's dragon training would fix that horrible oversight. Speaking of which…

"… now the Hideous Zippleback may seem to be more difficult to bring down due to it having two heads. But in truth its two heads are by far its greatest weakness, as two long necks means twice the weaknesses – as long as ya have someone to help keep the Zippleback from focusing only on you. Better still, crushing the skull of one head would send the entire dragon into shock for a few minutes which is more than enough time for a Viking to finish killing it. DO NOT however consider a Zippleback as dead unless ye crushed both its heads! – after a minute or so it can come out of shock and tends to be much more vicious to make up for the loss of one of its heads.

"While the underside of the Zippleback is just about as unprotected as a Nadder's, it is usually pointless to attempt to kill one by striking into its chest and aiming for the heart, so do not do it! These double headed dragons have two hearts and can in fact survive losing one! Worse still, the hearts are not positioned where ye would expect, so it is all too easy to miss either heart all together and leave yourself open for a bite from the heads.

"Finally, remember that although one of the heads breathes the gas and the other one sets it off, you should never consider this a weak-point and attempt to douse the heads in water to prevent them from lighting the gas, or some brilliantly stupid idea like that. Trust me on this, it has been tried and failed spectacularly.

"Think of it this way – how many Vikings have you seen running around with buckets of water during dragon raids? … Oh and you guys before dragon training don't count. So… There ya go. With the venomous teeth and snake like heads the loss of their ability to blow things up is not worth getting your head bitten off a second later. Besides, there aint ever a lack of dragons or fire to set off the gas during raids; one less dragon capable of that is as helpful as a bucket of water on a Nightmare's flames."

Hiccup watched Gobber take another swing of ale as he wondered just who it was that tried that spectacularly bad idea – even when he first started making his contraptions the plan of pouring water on a dragon never came up, after all dragons were deadly enough even without their fire breathing abilities to risk your life like that. Of course the fact that Gobber mentioned it means that someone had at one point actually tried it, likely resulting in a mess afterwards.

Noticing Gobber taking a deep breath to continue Hiccup shook his thoughts away and focused back on the lecture.

"And that leaves us with just one type of dragon – the Monstrous Nightmare. While only one of you will get the honor of going against it – and save the bickering about who it will be until after I leave; during dragon raids it's as foolish a move as ya can think of to go against one without help. Even veteran Vikings tend to take them on in groups of two or more. There is a better chance of survival that way.

"As with the other dragon types, the underside of the neck is the least armoured area, but unlike the other dragons you should never attempt to get close enough to strike at it and should focus instead solely on bashing its head in, which it fortunately sticks out quite often. Similar to the Nadder, a Nightmare dragon has two legs instead of four, and while it cannot move around using its two legs like a Nadder can, it can stand still on its two legs and use the wings to fight – the only common dragon to use them that way.

"If ye remember my lecture about the Nightmares, the tips of their wings they use to walk around have two razor sharp claws, and while that makes their wings a tad safer than a Timberjacks, any Viking that gets close enough to slash at a Nightmare's throat will inevitably place themselves within reach of said claws – typically with quite gruesome results in the dragon's favour. This leaves the head as really the only viable place of attack – and considering that its head can dart around almost as fast as a Zippleback's, ye should all see why killing one is in another class of difficulty altogether. The number of Vikings capable of taking one on during an actual dragon raid without help can be counted with the fingers of yer hands with some fingers left over. When I had all my limbs I too was among them, but not anymore.

"That said, y'all don't worry too much about Nightmare dragons, I will personally coach whoever has to face one at the end of training. As for the actual dragon raids, my suggestion if ye meet one would be to run in the opposite direction until ye'r capable of handling several Nadders at the same time. Fortunately enough we rarely see more than a handful of Nightmares during any single raid and those that come are handled by our Veterans."

Hiccup felt shivers go up his spine at that – he could still vividly remember his escape from the Monstrous Nightmare that had destroyed his Mangler, and could honestly say that he was thankful that he had never had the misfortune of meeting one during the other times he had been out testing his contraptions… Not counting of course that incident with the 'sleep powder'… as the less was said about that particular episode, the better.

"All that of course brings me to the last point. Hopefully y'all have been awake enough to know that with only a few exceptions it's the head and throat that you really want to go after; but there are two other areas you can also aim for which while not resulting in a killing blow will nevertheless cripple the dragon."

Gobber's voice boomed over them, and Hiccup could feel his stomach slowly drop down as his mind reverberated with that single word.

_Cripple…_

He didn't need to even hear Gobber exclaim about taking out the wings and tails and how the injuries done to them were some of the few that the dragons could not heal with their almost regenerative healing speeds, and yet the words were there, passing through his ears and lingering in his thoughts.

"… almost every Viking warriors knows this, and so should you – a downed dragon is still deadly, still capable of killing or injuring Vikings – still capable of fighting… and yet no dragon survives longer than a month with broken wings or shattered tails..."

_The sheared off tail fin – the result of my actions – such a minor seeming thing, and yet tying Toothless to the ground stronger than any metal chains or crafted cages ever could._

Shaking his mug Gobber continued, heedless of the horror within his apprentice's eyes; "… no one really knows why, after all wolves, lynxes, Hel even Vikings that have lost an arm or a foot still manage to survive. I have once met a two legged wolf and let me tell ye, after it got to within inches of my throat I never let down my guard around seemingly crippled opponents. Not so for dragons though – downed dragons actually take their own lives within a single month rather than continue living that way, almost as if they cant bear to live without flight. You often enough see several beasts just dropping down dead during the last minutes of a dragon raid when they see the others flying away and are incapable of following them; dropping dead or just jumping off cliffs…"

_A single month… _He could not breathe as he understood that even under the best conditions it had already been a fortnight since he had shot down Toothless; with at most another fortnight left, and even that was assuming that Toothless could hold out that long.

"… the only thing we know about it is that the first few captured dragons had their wings removed to prevent their escape. Let me tell ye now how that ended - they all became increasingly violent and restless, in some cases foregoing sleep altogether. After a while though that all stopped - almost as if they lose their will to live. After close to a month, most just lay around in their cages and refusing to eat simply up and dyed within a day at most."

Hiccup's latest visits to the cove flashed through his mind as he finally got an answer as to why Toothless' behaviour started changing. He had feverishly hoped that Gobber had been wrong, or perhaps that it would not apply to Toothless, after all no one has even seen a Nightfury or an intelligent dragon, so it was possible that all the knowledge gathered on the other dragons did not completely apply; but there was no way he could disregard the truth now that it was so blatantly staring him in the face.

Toothless' increasingly erratic behaviour, the stripped off bark of the trees, the time Toothless jumped on him and almost killed him; the vivid memories flashed through his mind and Hiccup shivered.

It all fit with Gobber's explanation, didn't it?

He had shot down Toothless and crippled him, chaining him to the ground and consigning him to a slow death.

The only friend he made, the one being that was slowly filling in the jagged hole in his mind that had been ripped out with the loss of his mother and further flayed open by his father's thoughtless actions; fated to die from a wound he himself inflicted upon him.

There had to be something he could do – he refused to just accept the current situation as inevitable. Refused to accept Toothless' tail as crippled forevermore; for all the problems originated from it.

_The tailfin, of course…_

Hiccup did not notice himself jumping from the table and running out of the Meade hall, nor Gobber's yells and the other younglings' stares. He did not even notice himself yelling out some sort of excuse back at Gobber which must have worked as his mentor sat back down and continued without him, not that he payed any attention to their reactions.

His mind was focused on only one thing, the artificial fin – the half-finished design drawn within the pages of several of his journals, along with the partially finished bits and pieces of the metal skeleton that would together form a new tail fin to replace the one he was responsible for.

The forge was already heated up as Gobber had likely been working on it in the early morning and was going to continue later on, but Hiccup disregarded any danger of being discovered by his mentor or whoever else could drop by. He had planned on taking his time to build the artificial tail fin so that no one noticed the materials missing and the finished product only needed minor adjustments before Toothless could use it, but there just wasn't enough _time_!

It took perhaps an hour to put together the metal skeleton as the rods were already complete; and another hour to stitch the light leather he filched from the docks and cut into the shape of the tailfin on top of it. He had been planning on collecting the black scales that Toothless constantly shed and somehow attaching them onto the leather to make the artificial tailfin more like the real thing, but that idea would have to be scrapped now or at least put on hold. Worse still, the blatant problem that he had been stuck on of actually controlling the tailfin was clearly visible as he folded and unfolded it, but there was nothing to be done about it now. Half an hour more work installed a way for him to jam the fin in its spread state. He doubted Toothless kept his tailfins fully open all the time, but it was better than nothing.

_Perhaps showing the tailfin to Toothless would at least buy me some time, and who knows – perhaps he can at least glide with this._

If there was hope that he would be able to fly things would be better, right? – After all Toothless wouldn't just give up… right?

Fueled by desperation Hiccup took off towards the bridge and was about to enter into the forest when he skidded to a stop and turned back around. In his haste he had forgotten to get any fish for Toothless, and asking Toothless to allow him to approach the tail was not something he fancied doing while the quite possibly easily irritated Nightfury was still hungry.

Of course there was still the problem with having to go all the way down to the docks to get the fish, along with the higher possibility of being seen as it was only a couple of hours past noon and there would be people at work there.

He could wait until the other Vikings dispersed, or…

_Screw this – I'll just grab the basket of fish I brought over to Gobber in the morning and replace it afterwards_ he thought. Heaving the basket over his shoulders Hiccup staggered for a moment under its weight before grabbing the half-finished tailfin from the ground and rushing off to the cove, all the while thinking of just how to broach this particular topic with Toothless.

_I suppose I'll just show him the artificial tail fin and hope he is in a good enough mood today to allow me to put it on._

Right, because there weren't so many things that could go wrong with that '_whatever happens, happens'_ plan.

Still, it wasn't as if there was any time for anything else, and theoretically speaking, nothing _could_ in fact go wrong with such a plan. Whether the plan would be able to successfully accomplish what he wanted it to accomplish with minimal amount of blood spilt was a completely different question altogether.

… He _really_ hoped that Toothless would be in a good mood today…

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* * *

**A/N**

I hope Gobber's lecture was not too long – I wanted a slightly different take on the entire firepit scene when Hiccup finds out the entire 'downed dragon is a dead dragon' bit, mostly because with an added time limit I needed Hiccup to get out to meet Toothless with the tailfin on the same day as that episode.

The story has finally passed into three digits of reviews! Grats goes out to MidKnightz for posting review #100. Thanks everyone who read/reviewed/favourited this story, and hope you stick around for the rest – its barely started as it is, and if I can get it finished to my satisfaction there will probably be five to six times the current number of chapters. The amazing thing is that I actually have the plotline written down for it all – now I just need to flesh it out.

I will continue to write and post new chapters, and hopefully all of you will continue to read, review/favorite/follow. I really hope to reach the end, but going from a story that was supposed to be 50-70 thousand words to ten times that is quite a daunting task. On the other hand if I finish I will have the dubious honor of having the longest HTTYD fanfic on the site (or second longest _– Truth is a shard of ice_ seems to be going strong, and it is my own personal hope that it continues as well – awesome story, if anyone here hasn't read it I strongly recommend it).

I have recently had another idea for a story climb on my back and not get off, so I may take the next week off from posting a new chapter here and instead post the first chapter for that story (which currently looks to be about 20k words in total). If you spot a story called 'Draegon Child' published in the upcoming week, check it out. What with the chapters being closer to 2-3k instead of the 4-6k I usually put into Ouroboros I may actually write both of them at once.

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Saienai signing off


	22. 1st-20: Beginnings of Hope

**~Ouroboros~**

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**1****st**** – 19. Beginnings of Hope**

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I woke up to the same nagging at the back of my mind that I have been trying and quite miserably failing to ignore for the past few sun cycles. It was still early enough in the day that the bottom of my cove (_prison_, my mind snidely reminded me) was covered by the shadow of the east wall. I cursed in several human dialects as I realized I had been forced from sleep much too early – the sun goddess would be more than halfway through her flight across the sky before Hiccup returned.

Funny name for a human really, though it wasn't as if I could judge considering that I have never met any other hatchlings – be they human or dragon. As it was, I have long since forgotten my own so I didn't even have that to compare to. Still, at least it was only his hatchling name and not his true one.

One of the things he had shared with me several days into our unlikely friendship was that the name he currently carried was given to him at birth, so I knew that my guess based on his size was correct and Hiccup was still a hatchling. I could only hope that once the time came for him to find out his true name it would represent him better than the current one.

A pang of pain shot through the back of my mind and I winced before shooting a plasma bolt off to the side in irritation, causing another charred circle to form on the walls of the cove. As with all the other times, this did nothing to sate the itch that I have long since understood to be the encroaching _skylust_ – a sort of pressure building up in my mind that I could do nothing to relieve.

There really was only one thing that could, although Hiccup's visits helped me forget about it for a while. Ever since we shared food _half_ a moon cycle ago Hiccup's presence somehow managed to abate the itch of _skylust_ – or at least take my mind off of it.

It was for this reason that I tried to sleep my way through whenever Hiccup was not around. With him always bringing me enough fish to sate my hunger I didn't even need to catch food for myself.

Not that I would try even if I was hungry. From the moment the onset of _skylust_ became impossible to ignore, I kept myself as far away from the waters as I could, going so far as to close my eyes tight whenever thirst made it necessary to approach. It had nothing to do with the water itself and everything to do with what I was afraid would be staring back at me from within its reflection.

I could all too well remember the hopeless, _dead_ eyes that stared back at me from the calm water surface – and I feared that the next time I looked into the waters I would see those gazed over eyes staring back at me again.

It has been a _quarter_ of a moon cycle since I had shared food with Hiccup when I first consciously noticed the itch of _skylust_, and ever since then I have started having blank spots in my memory – moments where time passed unnoticed, where I could not remember what had transpired no matter how carefully I shift through my memories.

Worse still, moments such as these have come on with increasing frequency and length. If it kept going like this it may not be another _quarter_ before one came on that I would not break free from.

_Perhaps this is the insanity that came with-_

_-blink-_

_- skylust.._. My thought trailed off; not from surprise at finding myself on the opposite side of the cove, but from a pang of fear as I whipped my head upwards to see how long it had lasted this time. The sun had visibly shifted and her rays fell down into the cove to reflect brightly off the water. From her position I knew that it had been several hours since she had risen – several hours since I had awoken…

Several hours that passed without me noticing.

With an icy feeling in my chest I noted that it had been the longest one yet. I thought once more about making an attempt to go into an eternal sleep as I had tried once before, but as always decided to postpone it – not for my sake, but for Hiccup's. I had come to terms with my upcoming fall into the abyss and the return to the cycle of rebirth a few sun cycles after crashing into the waters of this cove with one of my tail fins missing.

As for Hiccup…

From what little he had told me about his life I doubted he would take my death well. Even now it is difficult to remember the moments after my mother and sire left me without a deep seated sadness and grief. I understood then just as well as I do now that they did not have any choice but to follow their _wanderlust_ where it guided them, but that understanding did nothing to make the shocked disbelief at their abandonment of me any less.

It is exactly because of that that I wanted to prolong the inevitable moment when Hiccup would have to experience something similar for as long as possible…

…Even if it meant coming dangerously close to the insanity of a _NaaiNe_.

Would I truly risk such a cursed fate for the sake of a single human hatchling?

_…Yes._

Somehow, strangely enough, I would.

The sounds of shuffling about from one of the rock walls of the cove warned me that I was no longer alone. Making a conscious effort to force the depressing thoughts away, I turned to look with surprise at Hiccup as he ran along the ledge and began to climb his way down the tree roots that granted him access to the cove.

_Finally! _I couldn't stop myself from thinking. _Finally he was here!_

The perpetual nagging of _skylust_ abated enough for it to become lost in the background noise of my mind, even as I sprang up and sauntered off to meet him; the question of why he came back so early buried deep even before it could be brought up. The happiness that his visits always brought to me and the relief that I would not have to wait hours more by myself consumed my mind.

"Hey there Toothless! Good to see you ali- awake."

I sat down half a wingspan away from him and tilted my head slightly in confusion. Hiccup's voice sounded relieved and perhaps slightly panicked, reinforcing the feelings I felt from his mind. I also did not miss the hitch and quick correction he made, not that I knew what he wanted to say; _ali-_ what exactly?

He must have sensed my unspoken question as he hastily stuttered out a few 'um's and 'er's before continuing.

"It's nothing – just forget it. A-anyway I hope you are hungry because I brought you something extra today." He said before dropping the basket of fish in front of him, jarring it slightly and causing it to release the appetizing smell of fresh fish. As I had done before I did not make a single movement towards his food, even though I knew that it would be mine in a few moments if things went the same way as his previous visits.

I couldn't supress a flicker from my wind sensors though – even though I was not ravenously hungry, the fish smelled freshly caught and Hiccup usually brought fish that had been at least a few sun cycles out of the water. Not a problem considering the cold climate and my iron stomach, but freshly caught was always so much better.

"You know, this is starting to be almost a ritual for us" I heard Hiccup mutter before he shook his head and continued in a normal though still slightly breathless voice.

"Right – These fish are yours, so you might as well get started." Having said his piece Hiccup tipped the basket to the side allowing the fish to spill from it.

He hasn't been joking when he said he brought something extra – the basket must have been completely full as the amount of fish before me was almost double what he would usually bring. There was more variety too – most of it was cod of course, but I could easily spot almost a _moonfull_ of salmon along with several other slightly rarer kinds of fish that I had not tasted in a long while.

"Hope that satisfies you – cod, salmon, several herring and trout too. Got an entire eel in there too, and those are quite rare. Hope Gobber doesn't notice it missing when I replace the fish…"

I was already on my seventh fish when Hiccup's words permeated into my mind and I hastily drew away. Smelling the food pile again I released a cry of alarm and shuffled away even further. The deadly smell of the eel was there, hidden originally under all the other fish but evident now that I was warned of it and paying attention.

We dragons can handle just about any kind of food – my sire told me that there are even dragon races to the far west that live on nothing but seawater or are capable of digesting trees and solid rock, and I have no reason to doubt his words. Eels however are deadly poisonous for all dragons. No one really knows why this is so, but there is something within them that interacts badly with the flames within all of us. While a single bite could be survived, consuming an entire eel was a guaranteed flight to a slow and agonizing death as the remains of the eel's flesh caused your body to cool down and quite literally freeze from the inside.

A truly terrible fate for a being of fire.

"No, no! It's ok!" I heard from the side, along with sounds of Hiccup scrambling forward. I watched warily as he made a grab for the eel, and took a step back when he actually picked it up. My eyes broke away then to franticly search around me for an escape route, for in the state of panic I was in I had completely forgotten that the only way that cursed eel could hurt me is if I actually ate it.

It was only when amidst my flickering view I spotted that Hiccup had tossed the eel off into the grass away from me that my rationality started to return and I began to slowly calm down. Surprisingly it took quite a while for me to do so, mostly because in my panicked state I did not notice Hiccup also releasing waves of panic.

Once I was calm enough to do so though, I pieced together what was occurring and focusing on my own mind closed it off for a moment from everything around me. A moment later I was completely calm once more, though it would take a bit longer for my heart rate to drop into an acceptable range.

It was quite obvious in retrospect what had occurred – when Hiccup saw and felt my panic at discovering the abyss forsaken eel in my pile of fish, he was also driven into a hysterical frenzy, unused as his recently unfrozen mind was at handling extreme emotions. The raw wave of panic flowing from his mind only further strengthened my own, leading us both into a downwards spiral.

Whenever Hiccup visited I always opened my mind further than was considered safe so as to actually _feel_ his own close by, and in this case it came back to flame me.

Snorting once to both laugh at my stupidity of falling into an emotional feedback loop, and to remove the dregs of fear still clinging to my chest, I moved back to finish my food – obviously not before taking several deep breaths, smelling and tasting the air to make sure there wasn't another eel buried inside.

"That was the only eel there. Rest are all fish. Honestly didn't think you'd react that way – sorry." Hiccup sounded apologetic, though I could hardly blame him for not knowing that they were poisonous to me. His words did make me breathe easier though, and I took a tentative bite, then another.

I finished off the rest of the pile slower than I usually would; as any sane dragon in such a situation, I was still a mite cautious – tasting the scent of each fish before swallowing. I trusted Hiccup – strangely enough I really did, even though he was a human and I vividly remembered exactly what those were capable of. Even so, having come so close to freezing to death made me slightly paranoid.

Having never felt cold in my life I couldn't imagine such a way to die, but knowing that it would take several sun cycles to do so along with harsh warnings from when I was a hatchling made it hard to decide which was the worse fate – freezing to death or becoming a_ NaaiNe_.

Neither fate was something I wanted to experience.

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* * *

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It was only when Toothless took a cautious bite from the pile of fish that Hiccup allowed himself to breathe a sigh of relief, muscles he didn't know he had loosening themselves. Just a few moments ago he had been in the worst state of panic he had ever experienced in his entire life. The fear and dread felt like they had permeated into every inch of his body, and grown stronger still until his very soul was nearly consumed by it.

He had honesty never felt this way before, not even when he had stared death into the face at the claws of just about every kind of dragon he knew of. Hel take him, he had never felt even a fraction of the emotions he had experienced just now! His hands had felt like they were made from lead and it took all of his will power to just move his feet – it was only the thought that the smoked eel was what was causing Toothless to back away in fear and the knowledge that he was the only one that could help the Nightfury that allowed him to rush forward and throw the smoked eel off to the side.

… And then a few seconds later the all-consuming fear seemed to evaporate off of him, leaving him weak in the knees and feeling quite emotionally spent. All his emotions gone, much like a drop of sweat on a white hot sheet of metal.

_Could it have had something to do with Toothless and his fears?_ He wondered. He could still feel a tiny prick of apprehension coming from the dragon, and it was not too farfetched to believe that Toothless' fears could have overwhelmed him; it wasn't as if feeling a dragon's emotions was typical by any Viking's definition of the word. There was bound to be some unforeseen consequences.

_If so, wonder if there is anything I could do to prevent it from happening again… _he thought, and glancing over to the eel lying in the grass a dozen or so feet away he couldn't stop his ever keen mind from wondering exactly why Toothless reacted this way…

_And what about the other dragons – would they react the same?_

The sound of Toothless biting into yet another fish with a content croon that was only slightly marred by worry brought Hiccup back to reality. Seeing as Toothless was unlikely to be doing anything else in the near future considering his slow pace, Hiccup decided to take the time to get rid of the eel and bring over the tailfin that he had finished building just this morning. He had left the fin at the entrance as he didn't want to have to breach that topic before Toothless was well fed (and in a better disposition because of it, much like his father always was).

_At least I wouldn't have to think up of an excuse for the sudden disappearance of the eel that Gobber had been looking forward to, _he thought as he carried the eel away. It was quite rare to catch them after all. That didn't prevent him from holding it at arm's length though – considering how Toothless reacted it would be quite stupid to get any more of its smell on him than he had to.

Dropping the eel amidst the rock formations encircling the roots he used to get in and out of the cove, Hiccup picked up the prosthetic fin and watched carefully as he opened and closed it several times; making sure that it was still working the way he designed it to. Not that there was anything that could have ruined it since the last time he checked it, roughly halfway between his village and the cove. Still, after the most recent fiasco the motions were at least slightly reassuring.

His non-existent plan back on track, Hiccup jogged back towards Toothless, unknowingly carrying their fate in his hands.

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Finishing up the last fish (an exceptionally fresh salmon that I had picked out just for this honor) I licked my snout and turned my attention back to Hiccup who was sitting on the grass a wingspan away and absentmindedly playing with a strange object between his claws. His slightly twitchy movements only accentuated the thinly veiled feeling of dread coming off his mind that he seemed to be attempting (and mostly failing) to keep down.

Turning towards him I warbled once while pushing the feeling of curiosity towards his mind in the hopes that he would understand the unspoken question; unspoken from his point of view at least. A few sun cycles after his mind thawed I found this to be a way to converse with him – primitive, but better than nothing.

_:: What's bothering you Hiccup? :: _He couldn't hear me of course, but actually saying it helped me focus on the message I wanted to get through to him. Either I had gotten better at this over time or he got better at understanding, but sometimes it felt almost as if he understood me completely.

"It's nothing. Well, not exactly nothing but… Okay, just try not to kill me if I offend you or something – um…" Hiccup's apprehension spiked a bit at that, and I could tell that he was trying to stall.

_:: Well? :: _I prompted.

"See Gobber teaches us about dragons and stuff, and I am sure it's really nothing, but one of the _minor_ points he made was that… um… you dragons can't survive long without flight…" Hiccup faded out towards the end and I doubt that I could have heard him if I wasn't so close.

The itching at the back of my mind made itself known for a moment before retreating once more, or perhaps it was just a vivid memory brought back up by Hiccup's mention of my escalating problem. I really did not want to tell Hiccup just how little time we had left, and had in fact intended to try getting out of the cove once more in a couple of sun cycles so that he did not have to see my body once my soul vacated it. Of course that plan was useless now – and perhaps it was better this way.

Turning to gaze directly into his eyes I pushed down all of my emotions deep into the core of my mind, layering their clouds flush against the weave of my memories. The only feelings I allowed to flow freely were determination and acceptance as I slowly nodded my head and moved closer, pushing him slightly but firmly into the chest with my snout.

_It's fine._ I thought. _I have accepted my fate. I just wish I didn't have to leave so soon…_

"so it was…" Hiccup's voice was barely heard above the rustle of the leaves and the cascade of the small waterfall along the opposite edge of the cove, and yet with my ears only a claw's length away from his mouth, I could not miss them.

Nor could I miss the horrible agony present within his voice.

"no. I – I won't let it end this way. It's not quite finished, but I made this and it can't possibly be worse than nothing right!?" He whirled around, pushing away from me all the while raising his voice until he practically screamed out the last word – the sheer desperation concentrated within it more than enough to cause me to flinch slightly.

Worse still, the wave of hope that welled up within his soul as he shared his glance between me and whatever he was clutching between his paws with enough force to turn them white was strong enough to push into my mind and infect it as well – hope that I had thrown away only sun cycles after finding myself in this cove.

"Look, just look, ok! It needs some work, but if you just give me time I can get it working I promise!"

Water streamed down his cheeks and his breath hitched several times, and yet his eyes gazed at me with such intensity that it took quite a bit of effort to look away from them when he held the strange object towards me and opened it up.

For a moment I stared at it with incomprehension, taking in the brown material it was made from and the almost skeleton like structure that held it together. _Weird, that's what it is. What with the five 'bones' stretching the brown material it looks almost like my-_

My breath hitched as my throat clamped shut, and yet I did not feel any of that. My entire mind ground to a halt as I realized just what the strange thing in Hiccup's arms looked like. I do not know how long I just stared at it, but it was only when Hiccup folded it together that my mind managed to restart its thought processes, making me realize that I had been holding my breath the entire time and causing me to release it in a single snort.

"…already guessed, but anyway – tada! It may not work the same way as your old one, but it's better than nothing… So, want to try it out?" I completely missed whatever Hiccup had said before then, but I did not need much prompting.

My tail slammed into Hiccup's chest, causing him to let off a single 'oomph' as he crashed back down onto the grass, my tail twitching merrily on top of him.

"Um, I'll take that as a yes then?"

_:: Yes! Now hurry up with it! ::_ I accentuated my thought with a loud warble, having completely forgotten that he could not understand me. Of course the way he eagerly scrambled out from my tail and rushed to pick up the new tailfin showed that he managed to infer enough in any case.

The first attempts for him to attach the new tailfin failed spectacularly considering that I was so excited that I could barely keep myself in one place, to say nothing of keeping my tail still long enough to allow Hiccup to work. By this point I had completely forgotten all of my reservations about allowing anyone to come close to my last remaining tailfin – the thought of having the second one back had burned away all of them faster than a tree bathed in my blue flames.

"Not that I am not happy that you like my idea; but could you hold your tail in place!? I can't do anything with it twitching about!"

_:: Just jump on top of it or something! :: _I yelled out as I forced my tail to lie on the grass, still twitching erratically to the sides but not as much as it had been. Attempting to draw in my excitement was working out about as well as keeping _skylust_ away, but I tried anyway.

"Alright, fine! Just don't flame me for this." Hiccup replied back with exasperation before straddling my tail and managing with his almost negligible weight to stop most of my tail's movements.

"That's better." He muttered before shoving my second tailfin in place opposite to my remaining original one; the sight of two of them together like that sending an uncontrollable spasm through my body, nearly unseating Hiccup when it reached him.

"Oh come on! Hold still until I finish!" he yelled at me in exasperation, and I growled off a wordless reply, focusing back on keeping my excitement from overtaking me.

I couldn't keep my eyes away though.

Seeing as I had my tail curved around with its tip lying in front of me, I was in a good position to watch exactly what he was doing. From what I could see he was using several vines made from the same brown material as the membrane of the tailfin to tie it to my tail.

Surprisingly enough the five bones fanning out from the core mirrored my original fin almost perfectly, the entire structure fitting snugly into the roughly indented scar that was all that remained from my original fin. It wasn't perfect by any stretch of imagination – the front bone was much too long, making my tail look sort of lopsided. The other bones, while managing to come close to the original's curve, were wrong as well – with the third bone being the longest instead of the forth as it should be.

And yet even as my mind processed all of this and pronounced the chance of me flying normally with the new tailfin as equivalent to the sun goddess deciding to take a day off; in my eyes my tail looked just as good as it had ever been. As Hiccup removed his hands from my new tailfin to make some gestures that I only noticed in the periphery of my eyes, I felt the tailfin that had been missing for what felt like forever reconnect back to me.

I felt whole again, and I could honestly say that there has never been a better feeling. Perhaps later I would compare it to the moment Hiccup and I shared physical memories for the first time, but right now the feeling of _wholeness_ and _rightness_ of it all swept away everything else.

I uncoiled around, not even noticing that Hiccup, who had still been sitting on my tail, was forcibly thrown off into the lake when my tail flashed to the side. Lightning passed through my body, twitching my muscles and sending shivers along my scales. Spreading my wings I crouched and without even a few steps to build up speed I leapt into the air. Both my wings were open and beating rapidly even as my muscles cried out in protest, not having been used in over half a _moonfull _sun cycles. Both my rear fins opened and in their climbing position, the sensation of air flowing around them bringing with it calmness and excitement in glorious chaos of feeling.

Better still, both my tailfins were wide open and catching air as they should be.

I flew straight forward and up; up and over the edge of the cove, gaining elevation until I could see the endless ocean around the island. There was nothing that could break the elation I was feeling at the moment, and it wasn't until I leveled out that I consciously realized that I could not actually control the other tailfin as I could my remaining original.

It wasn't much of a problem of course – so what if I could barely turn without coming dangerously close to performing an unplanned dive, so what if the only thing I could do better than a newly released hatchling was to fly in a straight line… and even that was only because hatchlings never flew in straight lines.

It mattered not – because no matter how horrible I flew, no matter how precariously close I always was to loosing what little control I had, I could still _fly_!

_Fly freely through the air like I was always meant to – like all dragons are!_

I flew forward, feeling the shackles that had tied me down for what felt like eternity unravelling into nothingness behind me, burning away in the bright rays of the sun goddess. My entire word became nothing but me and the wind embracing me, a single thought all that existed in my mind.

_I Fly. _I thought, and so I did.

For the first time in what felt like forever, _I_ _flew._

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I felt as if I had flown for an eternity when I glided back to the cove and crashed into the waters trying to align myself to land, losing my tenuous grip on flight, both from my nearly non existing control and from sheer fatigue. A single glance at the sun goddess told me that it hadn't even been a single hour, but even the burning from my completely spent muscles and the realization of just how atrophied they were could not destroy my excitement.

Making my way out of the waters, the fear of its reflection just more ash in the wind, I glanced around and spotted Hiccup huddled against one of the rocks, trying unsuccessfully to start a fire. Sauntering over to him I let off a low powered plasma bolt that set the gathered pieces of wood on fire and startled him enough to cause him to jump away with a yell. I laughed at that, for the first time since ever.

"Yes, yes, very funny, laugh it up you big reptile. Anyway – did the fin work out?" Hiccup spoke and I could easily discern the happiness in his voice, happiness and pride.

_:: Yes! By the goddesses of the sun and the moon it was perfect! I just can't- The sun goddess embrace you for what you did! My- ::_

I was babbling, and I knew it. Perhaps if there was anyone around to actually hear me I would have felt embarrassed at this, but likely not – anyone who knew the situation would have understood. Like a breath of fresh air to a drowning dragon when one had already lost hope, my feelings were simply indescribable.

"… it's not perfect, I know, but now that you have let me come close to your tail I can fix it up to be the same as your other one – I had to work from the pictures you let me draw that one time and as you can see it came out good but not exactly what I hoped for. By Loki's ever shifting words, I still don't know how to get the fin to open and close when you want! I just jammed it in the fully unfurled position this time so I imagine it didn't handle as well as your real one did. It didn't, did it? I need some time to work on that…" Apparently I wasn't the only one babbling as Hiccup let off a slew of thoughts, barely taking the time to take another breath whenever he ran out.

I had already curled around the opposite edge of the fire, and moving my tail around I lightly hit him on the head with it, startling him and causing him to look to me as his paws grabbed at his head. We stared at each other for a moment, and then Hiccup started chucking. His chuckles grew into loud laughs, and I found myself laughing along with him, my laughs much deeper and more like a cross between growls and barks in comparison.

Relief – that's what it was. It took perhaps a minute for us to calm down, and we were both much more at ease with everything than ever before.

_:: Thank you Hiccup. Truly, no matter what you think you know about us, I doubt you can understand exactly what you have done for me. ::_

"Maybe not, but you are welcome none the less." He answered, and with a shrug began removing his waterlogged clothes, throwing them on top of my wing that was lying on the ground closest to the fire. "While we are both resting here I might as well dry them, hope you don't mind."

I didn't of course. I doubt I would have minded if he had asked me to tear out one of my scales for keepsake (not that he would of course – not Hiccup). Laying my head down on the grass no more than a claw width away from the flames I closed my eyes and basked in the heat. I did not bother giving any reactions when I felt Hiccup grab my tail and place it closer to himself, nor did I bother moving when he started tracing the bones of my original tailfin with his claws.

I was content, and there was absolutely no anxiety to be felt at having him so close to my tailfins. Why would there be?

He had after all given me back my flight, banishing the encroaching _skylust_ away as if it had never been.

My life was his in return.

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* * *

**A/N**

So there you go. Although the scene drew quite a bit from the original movie, quite a few parts had to be re-written. Overall the entire part where he flies on Toothless' tail in the original was just about as endearing as it was impossible. I really cannot see how Toothless didn't manage to notice someone clinging to his tail until Hiccup shouted out about his success, let alone was able to fly with a deadweight on his tail (sure Hiccup is a walking fishbone, but still… and did you see how well he flew? The two of them managed to do quite a high & wide loop together…)

Also, having Toothless be able to fly (no matter how poorly) without Hiccup was something I planned on for quite a while.

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Saienai


	23. 1st-21: Battle in the Fog

**~Ouroboros~**

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**1****st**** – 21. Battle in the Fog**

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Hiccup woke up to find himself in an exceptionally awkward position, with his legs still asleep and pain spiking from his back the moment he tried to move. It really wasn't all that difficult to piece together how he ended up like this considering that the hammers, nails, sheets of metal, wrecked swords and countless other things strewn around the floor meant that he had been working quite late in the forge and simply fell asleep on his feet. Wincing at the chaotic mess around him and giving off a fast prayer that Gobber didn't come around before he had time to clean everything up Hiccup bolted from the curled position he had been in against one of the larger anvils and cursed as his unresponsive legs buckled under him, not even making a token of an attempt to hold him up.

Still, luck was definitely on his side today he decided; considering the number of sharp objects he had managed to miss landing on.

A few minutes later Hiccup managed to get himself in mostly working order, as long as he discounted the consistent pain from the small of his back which made picking things from the floor slightly more difficult – or if not more difficult, then definitely more painful. That didn't stop him from cleaning up though, Gobber's lectures if he ever found his forge to be in such a state of dishevel were things of legend and to be avoided at all costs, trumping even those of his father.

It wasn't until the last hammer was safely placed in its proper place that Hiccup allowed himself to relax and take stock of the time. By the looks of it he had several hours until he was expected to face off against the Hideous Zipplegack, which was fortunate as that gave him time to do some stretches and get nice and limber in preparation for running the Hel away from it.

First things first though;

Picking up the recently improved tailfin from the table Hiccup ran off to his room and stashed it away behind the bed – as cliché as the place was, Hiccup doubted anyone would be searching his room anytime soon, and wedged between the bed and the wall, the tailfin would be well away from cursory glances of anyone who came in. With that done he threw himself on the bed and closed his eyes. Even with the upcoming dragon training, a few minutes rest in a non-fetus like position would be as close to Valhalla as he wanted to come, at least for the near foreseeable future.

He had worked almost the entire night away to remake the artificial tailfin into as close a mirror copy of Toothless' single remaining tailfin, and it took longer than he had expected. Even after shuffling the structure around he had to discard one of the shafts and remake it from scratch, to say nothing of having to pilfer and cut some more light leather for the membrane – the old cut-out had to be discarded since the fin had to be larger in quite a few places.

Still, the most difficult job so far had actually been parting Toothless from the artificial tailfin – the Nightfury was so much against relinquishing his newly returned ability to fly that Hiccup had almost given up trying, which would have forced him to have to build a second one. Fortunately he managed to talk Toothless down, mostly through fervent promises that he would return with a much better one tomorrow which Toothless would not have to take off.

That of course brought down an entire slew of problems, namely getting the tailfin fixed in time and layering the sections that would be lying flush with Toothless' scales to both grip tightly and be comfortable enough to leave on for long periods of time. Hiccup still had problems with the last bit – the only thing he could come up with is sewing in some wool to soften the edges, but even with that Hiccup doubted it would be healthy to leave it on for longer than a couple of days.

Or at least he thought it wouldn't be – considering Gobber's words on a dragon's insane healing he could very well be completely wrong and it may have been perfectly safe for Toothless to leave the artificial tailfin on forever even without the crude work he had done.

Just to be safe though Hiccup intended to talk Toothless into allowing him to take the fin off for the night every other day… or every third or fourth depending on Toothless' stubbornness. That and checking the scales of the tail for chipping, cracking, flaking, or who knows what else (and that was the problem, he just didn't know enough…).

Other than that, yesterday went much better than he had hoped for. Except for the episode with the eel, there were hardly any hiccups with the plan, and even that turned out for the best since a quick run to the docks to refill the basket with fish took care of any problems with Gobber.

Speaking of the eel though, Hiccup couldn't help but wonder just what it was about it that had caused such a panicked reaction from Toothless. He had never seen any dragons react in such a way, although now that he thought about it the long standing mystery (at least to him) of why the dragons avoided the docks and their high concentrations of food could easily be explained by the dragons' aversion to eel, considering that there were usually some eels hanging around there. Only single numbers usually, but if dragons disliked even the smell of one then everything fit quite nicely together.

No longer sleepy, Hiccup swung himself off his bed and walked out back to stretch, his mind lost amidst the plans of how he could use the newly gained draconic weakness in the ring. It was a perfect weakness too – not exactly dangerous to the dragon, while at the same time quite good for keeping one away. He could really use that, especially considering that _real_ dragon training would be starting today…

Hiccup barely noticed himself picking up the axe on the way out, nor did he pay any attention to almost tripping over the slight drop at the door. The entire time he went through the motions of stretching and getting his muscles warmed up his mind was occupied with thoughts of how _this_ time things would be different. Even as he sprinted towards the docks and later to the dragon ring, his eyes shined with anticipation while visions of grandeur floated through his mind. He could barely restrain himself from laughing at the faces he imagined the others would have when he bested the dragon with feats of skill only possible in the depths of his own imagination.

When Fishlegs inquired about the strange look of Hiccup's axe and the Thorston twins tried to needle him with comments about not properly taking care of his weapon, Hiccup just smirked before replying "You'll see."

Oh yes; for the first time since that ill-fated day he shot down Toothless Hiccup was actually looking forward to dragon training.

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* * *

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"Well look at that – ye'r all here and it aint even noon yet! Glad to see that ya remembered what happens if ya don't show up on time. Guess since ye'r all early I can give you a few words of wisdom before letting the dragon loose!" Gobber bellowed out at the gathered younglings, who withstood his voice much better than they had during the first few lessons. Unlike stories passed between past and current trainees told, he didn't use a voice more suited for scaring off wolves just to see the trainees' startled reactions – although that was always a good way to brighten his day.

No, the main reason for him using a voice that had once been affectionately compared to a young Thunder Drum was that it prepared them for the near tangible wall of noise during actual dragon attacks, decreasing the number of wet-behind-the-ear Vikings who froze during their first dragon raid. _Although comparing me to a Thunder Drum is a bit of a stretch – I haven't killed anyone with my voice… yet._

He did manage to stun a few wolves during those hunting expeditions he went on before the unfortunate loss of his leg – a proper bellow was almost a Viking tradition after all.

"Today marks an important point in yer training, for starting from now ya will be facing dragons every other day! Now you may wonder how that is different from the first few days, so I will tell ya! This time around the lot of you will be on yer own! If any of ya are about to get killed, ye can pray to Thor that the others are close by to help you out, for I will not!" The vicious snarl he ended on was cold enough to freeze water, and Gobber could see the six younglings before him shifting about in unease, soft murmurs that he could not quite discern passing between them. He could still guess what they were thinking – didn't take a genius to figure out that they were hoping against all hope that he was only joking.

He was of course lying through his teeth – if a situation arose where his intervention would be the only way to keep them all alive, Gobber knew he would jump in with barely a moment's notice. There were only two days during dragon training where he would not – the champion's battle against the Nightmare and the fight for survival against the Devil. Even then he always had to consciously restrain himself whenever he saw things going badly, as unfortunately all too often they did.

The trainees did not need to know that though.

"Ya heard that right – I _will not _run to save you if things turn bad! Ye'r all Vikings! Help yourselves! There are six of ya against a single dragon, if you retained even a speck of knowledge I tried to beat into yer heads you will do well! Now, as this will be yer first real joust with a dragon I will give you lot a few minutes to decide how ya want to tackle it. DO NOT expect me to grant ya that the next time! After today it will be 'you come in, dragon comes out'!" And with that Gobber hobbled off towards the cages, leaving the young trainees alone to plan and muse over his parting words;

"You will all know when training starts."

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* * *

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Hiccup glanced around uneasily as Gobber walked off to the cages, probably to release the Zippleback at the worst possible moment when no one was paying attention. Casually positioning himself to have the cage door in clear view he turned his attention to the other younglings who have by now bunched up in a circle. Even with his secret weapon ready to go, he was feeling more than a few butterflies making themselves busy in his stomach, so he could not quite imagine how the others felt. Of course they all wanted to be here and dreamt of someday being 'out there' fighting dragons whereas all he wanted was to reach the end with both his and Toothless' hides intact, so any comparisons were difficult to make.

"… I will rush the dragon while you all keep it distracted…"

"… I volunteer my brother as a decoy." – "Well I volunteer you!" – "Can't, I already volunteered you first…"

"… With its two heads why don't we make three groups? That way one group is guaranteed to have a chance…"

From the general chaos going on, it hardly took a mind as keen as Hiccups to tell that if things continued in the same mold, then the Zippleback was going to catch them with their pants down – the rapidly escalating volume of their voices made that all too clear. With a sinking feeling and a quick glance at Gobber, Hiccup knew that his mentor was thinking the same thing. He had to do something – he just didn't know what; preferably before Gobber let loose the dragon from sheer exasperation.

"If we have to work together, why don't we – I don't know – pick someone to lead? Preferably sometime soon, I really don't like the smile on Gobber's face at the moment!" The exasperated voice echoed over the sounds of bickering, surprising everyone into silence. It took everyone turning to stare at him to make Hiccup realize that he was the one who said the words, making him shrink back from all the attention. Even Gobber was looking at him with surprise.

"I am right you know…" he continued in a slightly subdued voice.

The others glanced around, and Hiccup could easily discern the thoughts going through their minds. The idea was quite good, but years of antagonistic behavior towards him made it hard for them to accept that. In the end common sense won out – something he really didn't expect considering the hard headedness of common Vikings… or at least not before Gobber let the dragon loose.

"As the obvious best choice I accept-" Hiccup rolled his eyes as Snotlout jumped at a chance to shine. If the idiot was actually selected as leader then Hiccup would have no choice _but_ to rely on his secret weapon.

"I'll do it" Astrid cut Snotlout off before he truly got going.

"Astrid" Surprisingly enough, it was Fishlegs who seconded that idea first – probably betting on Astrid having a much better chance of keeping them all alive than Snotlout, whose plan would have probably involved something along the lines of the idea he put forward not even a minute ago where he would rush the dragon where everyone else acted as bait.

"Definitely Astrid" Tuffnut was next. Between Snotlout and Astrid there really was little contest in his mind.

"As rare as it is, I'm behind my brother on this – you do it Astrid" Ruffnut's acceptance was slightly subdued; but even though Hiccup could see she was loath to agree with her brother, survival still took precedence in her mind.

"I'll vote for Astrid as well. Now what's the plan? Gobber is looking increasingly trigger-happy." Hiccup concluded, and though Snotlout looked disgruntled at the speed his leadership was shot down, he still grudgingly nodded in acceptance.

Astrid must have already been planning while the others were busy siding with her, for she shot off the plan with hardly a moment to gather her thoughts. "We'll split into three teams and try to pincer it. Snotlout and Tuffnut, you two follow the edge of the ring to attack from the left; Fishlegs and Hiccup will do the same from the right. With the two heads distracted, Ruffnut and I will rush in from the front to hopefully land a killing blow or at least force it back to the cages. If at any point you see the head you are supposed to be distracting notice us, let off a shout or bang your shields – just do something to get back its attention!"

Everyone nodded tensely, Astrid's sober tone nailing home just how serious the situation was. Though Hiccup wasn't sure as to how healthy it was for him to keep the dragon focused on him, there really wasn't much time to discuss things in a committee as in that moment Gobber's bellow of "Hope yer all ready, since the dragon sure is!" reverberated across the ring, followed all too soon by the ear splitting sound of metal slamming against stone as the Hideous Zippleback sensing its freedom blasted open the doorway.

As the sickly green and exceptionally explosive gas flowed outwards to blanket the newly opened cage, Gobber, and more importantly the dragon, Hiccup couldn't help but think that Astrid's plan was falling in pieces around them before it could even get started. Astrid must have felt the same way since she grabbed Snotlout's hand before the fool could charge forward and possibly kill himself in the upcoming explosion.

"Back everyone! Get as far away from the gas as you can! Follow me!" Not even glancing back to see if anyone was heeding her orders Astrid sprinted to the edge of the ring opposite from the Zippleback's cage that was the origin of the flammable gas, dragging a protesting Snotlout behind her. Fishlegs and Hiccup were barely a footstep behind them, and even that was because they paused to gape at Astrid dragging something over four times her weight with barely a hint of exertion. Tuffnut and Ruffnut just shared a glance before following, correctly deciding that they could bicker once they were away from the health hazard encroaching towards the center of the ring where they had all originally gathered.

"Backs against the wall, crouch and hold your shields in front of you! If that cloud of gas blows you want the shield to be hit first!" Astrid's orders were straight from Gobber's lectures, and in a few seconds they would all see just how effective such methods were in actual battle.

Hiccup didn't even bother glancing around to see if anyone else was listening to Astrid as he threw himself into a roll the moment he was close enough to the wall, and scrambled into a crouching position. From the grunts around him he could tell the others were doing much the same thing. _Fifteen seconds since the gas cloud was released... If the Zippleback attacks the same way as the dragon manual described, we have at most five seconds more before it sets off the explosion…. Less now._

"Three seconds… Two…" Hiccup heard Astrid muttering close by and knew that she was thinking the same thing. Bracing himself for the imminent explosion, he felt a pang of worry as he wondered if everyone else was ready. _Too late to do anything – one second left…_

_Now._

There was only silence as he held his breath. A second passed, and then another one. After ten seconds Hiccup chanced a glance around and noticed that while the Thorston twins along with Snotlout were still braced for impact, Astrid and Fishlegs were glancing around in confusion. _Over thirty seconds since the gas was released – it's no more than coloured air now…_

"Safe now, come on! That gas is nothing but coloured fog. Everyone up!" Astrid rounded them up and Hiccup hastened to follow her orders. In his mind Gobber's voice muttered about how a Zippleback's gas turned moss green and perhaps slightly more see-through after thirty seconds, signalling its transition into an inert state.

It was when the gas was acid green that they had to worry.

"New plan then – group together and stay quiet! We will enter the gas and using it to hide sneak up on the dragon. Snotlout and Tuffnut – you are both to watch for anything approaching from the left while Hiccup and Fishlegs take care of the right. Ruffnut and I will take the front. If you spot the dragon, whisper a warning – whatever you do don't shout! We need surprise on our side here! Once we spot the dragon we will divide as per original plan and circle around it. Now let's go, and for the love of Thor _stay quiet_!" Astrid passed on orders, her voice just barely above a whisper. Hiccup approved – he didn't want the dragon to know where he was either.

As the tightly huddled group entered into the fog Hiccup was struck with a thought – how did Gobber get out of the gas cloud when it was still primed to blow, especially as he had been right there at the point of origin… _or did Gobber actually know there wasn't going to be an explosion?_ No matter which one it was, there was another question to ask – how was Gobber going to watch over their training when all of them along with the dragon were impossible to spot inside the moss green mist?

_At least now I know for sure that he wasn't kidding when he said he wouldn't help us if we are about to die._

"Hiccup will you pay attention!" Astrid hissed and he discarded his pointless thoughts to focus instead on making sure their group came out alive and hopefully in one piece.

The fog swirling around them made it impossible to see clearly any further than six to ten feet in any direction, and with a sinking feeling Hiccup realized that the Zippleback held a distinct advantage over them – with its long necks and tails it could potentially hit them while still remaining hidden, not to mention that unlike them it had probably fought within its gas cloud before. Of course both sides had to find the other before any actual combat could commence.

_Wonder how many fights similar to this one it has lived through…_

For the first time since learning of Toothless' situation Hiccup was honestly thankful that no other dragon besides Toothless was intelligent. It was sort of comforting to know that the dragon they were searching for was a dumb beast instead of an intelligent one like Toothless that would be capable of using the situation to its advantage. Well… about as comforting as to know it was a vicious blood thirsty dragon they were facing instead of having Gobber (…or Toothless) going in for the kill.

Not that the situation was in any way good or well in hand, just that Hiccup knew all too well that it could have been much, _much_ worse. He would have been swimming with all his might away from Berk if he was told that Gobber was out for his blood (…or already burnt to a crisp if it had been Toothless).

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* * *

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The silence surrounding them was unsettling, pushing in from all sides and making their breaths sound loud enough to wake half the village no matter how hard they tried to keep quiet. The crunching of gravel underneath their feet was worse still, making the group slow down imperceptibly with each step so as to keep the moments they were inadvertently giving away their position to a minimum. A few more steps and they stopped, glancing around uneasily and straining to hear anything that could lead them to the Zippleback's location.

_Never thought standing still could ever be so nerve-wracking…_

Perhaps the dragon was also waiting for them to give away their position, or perhaps it was much better than they at walking around silently, for there was nothing to be heard. Hiccup was personally betting on the former – several tons worth of dragon could hardly keep itself perfectly silent when moving on the loose gravel floor of the kill ring.

Glancing back at Astrid he could tell that no further instructions were forthcoming – perhaps it was the experience of having to discern Toothless' answers from his moods and draconic facial expressions, but to Hiccup Astrid seemed as unsure of what to do in this situation as everyone else.

Scooping down to pick up a small rock, a half formed plan already swimming through his head, Hiccup prepared to throw it off into the fog surrounding them when a shrill scream pierced through the air, followed by something flying through the air above them. The fog swirled around, and for a brief moment Hiccup could clearly see the light green underbelly of the Zippleback before it passed on to land somewhere behind them.

"Well that didn't go as planned" Hiccup muttered as Astrid yelled out for the others to follow her as she veered off to the side, probably hoping to flank the dragon while simultaneously leaving the place where it had spotted them last. There was no question that the Zippleback had noticed them – if it hadn't seen their group as it flew over them it would have definitely heard their started cries and the subsequent scrambling when Snotlout tripped over Tuffnut and sent them both sprawling on the ground.

The sound of crunching cobblestones was heard to their right before the fog swirled again and a shadow momentarily blocked out the sun. Not breaking stride Hiccup muttered a single thank you to any gods listening that the Zippleback didn't hear them scrambling away.

Glancing down at the fist sized rock still clutched in his hand, he briefly weighed his options before throwing it with all his might behind him, hoping to at least confuse the dragon with the sound of it landing. There was some more scrambling behind them followed by several clinking sounds that sounded distinctly metallic to Hiccup before silence settled in again.

"Spread out in groups as planned until we can barely see each other. It's given away its position so we should be able to sneak up on it as long as we stay silent and it doesn't move…" Astrid whispered and Hiccup moved to comply along with everyone else. If the situation was any less serious he would have marveled at the way the entire group was managing to work together without Snotlout attempting to take center stage or the Thorston twins jumping at each other's throats. Still, considering how far out of their comfort zones they all were – what with the hiding dragon and the nigh zero visibility; it wasn't all that unexpected. Even he was glad that there was someone who knew what they were doing – it prevented the entire situation into breaking into shambles and making them all easy pickings for the Zippleback.

Step by step Hiccup and Fishlegs made their way towards where they heard the dragon land, Astrid and Ruffnut just barely visible five or so steps to their right. Although he couldn't see the other two, Hiccup assumed they were roughly the same distance further into the stifling fog, seeing as Astrid wasn't worried. Scratch that – from what little he could see she was most definitely worried, just not about the integrity of their group.

It was impossible to tell how much time passed, and with their visibility brought down to almost nothing the kill ring seemed to be much larger than he remembered it being. _Shouldn't we have encountered the dragon by now? _With all his muscles tensed up and ready to leap away at barely a moment's notice, the situation was getting to him. He just wished the Zippleback would finally show up in front of them so they can proceed to merrily attempting to butcher, poison and incinerate each other. Every moment that it didn't just increased the tension in his chest and the queasiness churning in his stomach, and from the nervous glances Fishlegs was shooting around Hiccup could tell he wasn't the only one.

There was a break in the fog ahead as something solid became visible, and for a moment Hiccup saw the scaly green hide of the Zippleback before he realized he was looking at the reinforced wooden doorway of one of the pens. They had traveled all the way across the ring and arrived on the other side, but the dragon was nowhere in sight.

"H- Hiccup? What now?" Fishlegs whispered and Hiccup could hear unease in his voice.

"Let's just get back to Astrid – she probably knows what to do." Hiccup whispered back and proceeded to follow his own suggestion, Fishlegs trailing obediently behind him.

They assembled back near the open doorway of Zippleback's pen, the inside of the two doors slightly charred from where the dragon must have tried to blast its way out at some point. The shadow of the giant plank used to keep the doors shut was just barely visible above them as nothing more than a dark outline, and the distinct lack of the Zippleback they had been trying to pincer just made the scene just that much foreboding. Not that it needed much help; the now more grey than green fog swirling about them and hiding the dragon was more than enough for that.

"Chances of survival are dwindling into single digits now…" Fishlegs' thoroughly spooked voice caused Hiccup to twitch and glance around, a motion that was mirrored by the others. In his state Fishlegs forgot to keep his voice down and Hiccup held his breath as he listened for any sound around them that would signify that the Zippleback had heard them and was en-route.

Fortunately, or perhaps unfortunately, as it meant they still didn't know where the dragon was hiding, there was nothing but silence around them.

"Um- Astrid? As loath as I am to nag like my brother usually does, please tell me you have a plan to get us out alive?" Ruffnut whispered and Hiccup watched Tuffnut hit her on the shoulder, though the action was much more subdued than it usually was. The simple fact that Ruffnut did not return the gesture showed just how freaked out she was.

Something wet dripped down to splatter against Hiccup's nose and wiping it off he glanced upwards, wondering if it was starting to rain. It would be helpful if it was since it might wash out the fog while simultaneously wetting the Zippleback's heads and prevent it from blasting them all with another dose of its gas, not that it didn't have a plethora of other ways it could skin, dissolve, or dismember them.

Still, not having to worry about being blasted apart or set on fire was worth something, right?

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* * *

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"- please tell me you have a plan to get us out alive?"

Astrid let off a dark glare at Ruffnut and opened her mouth to reply even as her mind was struggling to come up with a valid plan, but didn't get the chance as Hiccup took that moment to scream and dive to the side, heedless of all the noise he was making. She was just about to berate him (to put it mildly) when a low growl permeated the air, originating from directly above them.

Glancing upwards with a sinking feeling she looked straight into the approaching gaping mouth of the Zippleback before ducking down, the twin rows of razor sharp teeth snapping closed where her neck had been not even half a second ago. Barely hearing Fishlegs screaming as he ran off to take cover inside the Zippleback's cage, or seeing the way the Thorston twins scrambled over each other to put at least some space between the whipping tails and themselves, Astrid rolled out of the way of the second bite, losing her axe in the process. Any chance of getting it back was destroyed along with the axe's handle when the Zippleback bit down upon it and whipping around its head sent most of it careening off into the fog.

_The thrice damned Loki of a dragon! _The comparison was unfortunately all too apt. The Zippleback didn't slither off silently as she had thought when they found the place seemingly empty – it had used its claws to hang down off the metal chains composing the roof of the kill ring, its nigh unnatural stillness and the thick fog surrounding them causing them to mistake it for just another part of the ring's construction. Worse still, situated as they were directly under it, the Zippleback could reach them with both its heads and tails – they were virtually in its lap!

Spitting off another curse that would have had her mother attempt to storm her way out of Valhalla if she ever heard Astrid utter it, Astrid dodged another bite and winced as she watched the rocks where she had been lying moments ago sizzle and sag down as a green liquid corroded them away.

…_A Zippleback's acid can easily melt its way through the strongest armour… _Gobber's voice echoed through her mind.

So all she had to do was dodge all the blows, keep herself away from the razor sharp teeth, and make sure that the dripping acid did not land anywhere close to her.

…_Easy right?_

To make the situation worse, she had lost her axe and was now left with her shield and the single dagger she always carried on her belt – not exactly the weapons of choice. From the sounds of it, the others weren't faring any better than she was – even Snotlout was too busy fending off the tails that had focused on him after the Thorston twins fled to do much talking and showing off.

Imminent death certainly had a way of focusing people.

_At least the beast's claws were busy gripping the iron chains above,_ she thought.

A moment later she had to dive into a roll as the entire bulk of the Zippleback crashed down to earth, flipping along its side to land on its feet. One of its heads slammed upside down into the ground where she had stood, the horn rising between its eyes impaling the ground and missing her by no more than a foot. A brief feeling of relief passed through her – that was one type of piercing she did not want to get.

As she sprang back to her feet she noticed that the head was still stuck in the ground, its neck and the underside of its jaw lying exposed. If she didn't know better she would have said it was mocking her – giving her a perfect chance to kill it if only she hadn't lost her only good weapon.

Her hand flashed to her side before coming back up with her dagger gripped tightly in a reverse grip ready to stab downwards, but by then it was too late as the Zippleback ripped itself free and went in for another bite. There was little Astrid could do except fall back to defend against the quick darts, the acid coating the dragon's teeth leaving trails of black grooves along the entirety of the shield.

Astrid wasn't one to blame the gods for whatever went wrong in the world, but in this case she couldn't help but wonder if _someone_ in the group had done something to evoke their wrath.

_Alright, so it's Snotlout, Hiccup and I against an exceptionally deadly Zippleback without a plan to stand on. _Glancing down at the pitiful dagger clutched in her right hand she felt exasperation bubbling up through the anger, fear, and horror currently dominating her mind. _Oh and in case I could have possibly forgotten, I have already lost my primary weapon._

Their group was already cut in half; what with the Thorston twins nowhere in sight and Fishlegs having disappeared somewhere in the Zippleback's cage. Snotlout was now busy fending off one of the Zippleback's heads while the other head was busy harassing Hiccup. Of course she wasn't forgotten – both of the dragon's tails were now doing their best to pound her into the ground.

_Still, the situation could certainly be worse – not sure how, but it definitely could._

The next moment one of the tails whipped around and slamming into her hastily brought up shield, the force of which sent her flying over backwards, her grip on the shield loosening slightly in surprise. As the shield careened off into the slowly dispersing fog around her she couldn't prevent herself from scowling as she rolled out of the way of the subsequent attack by the second tail attempting to slam down on her head.

_As I said – the situation could definitely be worse._

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* * *

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Hiccup scrambled along the rough gravel filling the floor of the kill ring, his axe and shield held tightly in his hands only due to Gobber's training the past two weeks that had made it almost an unconscious action. From what his mentor had said, many a Viking have been killed during a raid due to an unfortunate loss of their weapons or shield, and as Hiccup blocked the incoming jaw from biting off a pound of flesh from him, he fervently agreed.

The sharp contrast between the tense situation moments ago and the chaotic melee currently going on was like the difference between night and day, and not for the first time Hiccup cursed some of the wishes he made, for they had a knack for being granted at the worst possible moment in the worst possible way.

_When I wished the dragon to show up I meant for us to catch it unawares, not the other way around! _He thought as he lay on the ground and tried to keep his shield in between himself and the biting dragon head that was bearing down upon him. They were in a stalemate of sorts, with the Zippleback unable to get past his shield and Hiccup unable to get up or even roll out of the way as long as the dragon's head was constantly trying to bite its way through.

With the edges of his shield flaying in places, Hiccup did not know how much time he had before it completely broke – still, at the rate it was going he didn't even have a minute. _Better make that seconds! _He thought in increasing panic when he noticed portions of the shield corroding away, painfully reminding him of the potency of a Zippleback's acid when a drop of it burned its way along his hand.

Pushing his muscles past their limits, Hiccup succeeded in redirecting his shield off to the side, along with the attached Zippleback's head. Rolling off to the side with his axe pressed firmly against his chest, he jerked at the shield's handle and heard something splinter. A brief glance in between rolls caused him to wince at the quality of his shield – it had definitely seen better days, what with half of it missing.

No time to lament it now, although it would make blocking the incoming attacks that much more difficult. _Assuming that the next hit doesn't cause it to fall apart into pieces._

Scrambling to his feet Hiccup glanced around to take stock of the situation. Off to his left he could see Astrid fending off the other head armed only with a shield, having shockingly enough lost her axe sometime in the last ten or so seconds that the fight had been going on for. Snotlout was busy handling both of the tails that were darting at him like snakes one moment and whipping around like well… whips… the next.

Of the Thorston twins and Fishlegs, there was no sight, though Hiccup could distantly hear Tuffnut yelling out through the fog about how horribly he had been hurt – if he didn't need to focus back to the battle going on and duck under the Zippleback's head attempting to impale him with its horn, Hiccup would have laughed at that. After all if he was capable of yelling out like that, then he was most definitely alright – better in fact, as he no longer had a savage dragon out for his blood… at least until it finished with the three left behind first.

In the periphery of his eyes he noticed something barrelling towards him, and only barely managed to get the remnants of his shield between it and himself. The force of the blow sent him flying several paces away, his axe still clutched in his hand while the shield remained where it was – stuck on top of the Zippleback's head, pierced as it was by its horn.

Even as he scrambled to get up for the umpteenth time in the course of this fight, Hiccup just _knew_ that Gobber would be berating him for losing the shield, no matter how near destruction it had been at the time.

That was assuming he survived of course, and seeing as how the dragon picked this exact time to get down from its position above them, Hiccup was starting to truly doubt that would ever happen.

With barely a second to go until several thousand pounds worth of dragon landed on him, Hiccup threw himself to the side like his life depended on it – which it was – and cleared the zone of contact with nigh a moment to spare. The ground shook from the creature's landing, causing him to almost lose his balance. He did manage to keep it though, although it didn't make any difference as he was sent flying barely a second later as the Zippleback sent him flying once more when it unfurled its wings.

The fog was already dispersing from all the fighting going on, and the Zippleback's wings only helped clear it off faster. Hiccup's eyes quickly spotted Gobber and the Thorston twins in the middle of the kill ring, too far to provide any help even if they wanted to. The ground neared, and he prepared himself for landing. _Time to see if all the exercises Gobber put us through were worth it._

Apparently they were, as he managed to perfectly turn his dive into a roll, springing back up to face the dragon, which was quite fortunate as the Zippleback's head was once more shooting towards him.

_Let this work – Odin, Thor, or whatever deity is looking over this, please let this work! _Hiccup thought fervently as he swung his axe from left to right in front of him as he had seen his father do several times, hoping against all hope that the Zippleback would notice the reek of eel blood upon it and desist.

It was too late for that though; the head was already too close and coming in too fast.

With his eyes shut with fear, he could only hear the shrill cry of the Zippleback as it closed in on him and swoosh of his axe as it cut its way through the air. He felt his axe strike something, the shock of it jarring his hand and causing his eyes to shoot open from surprise. Almost as if in slow motion he watched the axe burrow into the side of the Zippleback's head, stopping perhaps half an inch in when it failed to pierce through the skull. Still, the weight of the axe proved too much and pushed the head to the side as Hiccup completed the swing, tearing open a long gash stretching from all the way behind the dragon's head, all the way down to its jaw as it moved past him.

The Zippleback's shrill scream echoed through the kill ring, though it was different than before – Hiccup could almost feel the panic and pain within it. The head whipped back, sending globs of blood flying through the air.

_No_ He thought, shaking his head as if to deny what he had just done, his bloodied axe slipping through his numb fingers and falling to the ground. No…

Almost simultaneously both he and the Zippleback stepped back from each other, the dragon holding both its heads as far away from him as possible. Flashes of the bloodied aftermath of the last dragon raid that he had witnessed passed through Hiccup's head as he looked at the scar he had caused, the single remaining eye of that head looking at him in shock.

The other half of its face was a mess of blood and torn scales; the eye nothing more than a conglomeration of torn flesh and blood. The axe had passed straight through the middle and effectively cut it in half. Even with the exceptional healing that dragons had, it was obvious that that eye would never see again – and that was assuming that the copious blood loss didn't kill the Zippleback first, as the torn flesh wasn't as much dripping as pouring the life giving liquid to the ground.

_I- I didn't mean to – this wasn't what I-_

Not breaking its gaze the Zippleback shuffled backwards into its cage, not even caring as Fishlegs ran screaming out of his hiding place.

Hiccup didn't care either.

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* * *

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We staggered backwards, looking in surprise at the human that had brought about our death. Oh, not yet – but we knew it would come soon. The long gash across _Ael-_'s face was quite ghastly and was bleeding copiously, but that was a minor concern – it would heal soon enough.

No, it was the ice spreading from the wound that would ultimately bring us down.

We paid no attention to what was happening, and only when the clang of closing doors and the encroaching darkness finished their paths did we glance around to take in the closed off cave that would be the place where our minds would break off, our body would breathe its last, and our soul would fall into the blissful abyss.

_:: Ael-Lea what happened, are you alright? I felt your shock and pain. :: _We heard _Niu_ ask us, the tremor of her thoughts betraying the anxiousness she was feeling.

_:: Its nothing / We just got careless. :: _We replied, and felt shock, worry and slight fear come back as an answer. _:: Sorry to leave you without someone to talk to / Our time has come; goodbye old friend. ::_

There was a pause and then a single reply, filled with a deep sadness and understanding. _:: Goodbye, and may your next life be better than this – you deserve at least that. ::_

After that, there was nothing left to say.

Lying down we closed our eyes and relaxed as _Ael-_ embraced me and _–Lea_ did the same. We have lived together, and we will die together. Such was our life, and we would have it no other way.

It was unfortunate that we have not lasted long enough to see _Niu's_ tribe return from the darkness, but _Niu_ will carry on that wish and perhaps see it happen.

If not… well, the eternal abyss makes no distinction between souls – sooner or later all of us will fall into its grasp, and that includes whatever twisted soul governs the cursed darkness.

In the end all of us will be consumed to be reborn again.

The _Pattern_ would see to that.

…

Sometime later we heard the doors squeaking open and the distinct sound of _Gobber_ making his way in. _Ael-_ raised his head to look at the only human we see on a regular basis and allowed him to look over the gash upon _Ael- 's_ face. He didn't come close, but it wasn't as if we were expecting him to.

"Seems like it's stopped bleeding, though that eye seems gone forever."

_-Lea_ raised her head as well, and we both stared at _Gobber_ for a moment before he turned around and hobbled out to shut the door.

"Ye'll live. I'll come by later to feed all ye beasts and drop you off something extra – a nice basket of salmon or so. Hope you appreciate it. Still can't believe that Hiccup of all people managed-" His voice faded out from our hearing, and we turned away to curl back into a comfortable position.

It didn't help of course – the blood flowing through our veins was as cold as ice now, and for the first time in our life we understood what it is like to be freezing to death. Ironic isn't it? For us to be dyeing a dueler's death when we have not once participated in one. At least now we truly understand why duels are so are amongst our kin – it's a terrible fate to die like this.

As our mind literally freezes, its flame becoming weaker and weaker, we embrace each other and release what little control we had over our body, feeling as it takes its last breath. It will soon be time for us to go as well, but until that moment we shall hold on to each other.

A flicker, and then even that is gone – the flames of our mind gone forever. The ice has done its job, as our thoughts and memories that were meant to burn away with our mind are still there, and we are all too aware of them as they begin to fall away, taking a bit of us away with them. We watch all this, keeping each other from breaking into panic and making the inevitable all that much worse.

For a moment as the last remnants of _us_ fall away, we feel ourselves split completely, and that terrifies I and I more than anything.

…

There was no longer an _Ael-_ and his other self, _ -Lea_ – but two distinctly separate minds before they too are scattered in the wind. As the darkness swallows them, they can only feel glad that their time apart is over so fast – for one cannot live without the other.

What seems like a single soul dropping down into the abyss splits into two distinct and yet unblemished spheres, and two souls return to the eternal darkness.

Such is the curse of an _AttaEcor_, to be born with two minds birthed from a single soul composed of two, and to live through life knowing that in the end they will be separate once more.

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* * *

**A/N**

Yes, I killed off the Zippleback. Strangely enough I didn't plan for this – it just happened as I was writing the entire ambush scene and no matter how I tried to change it, it just would not work. Still, this does provide a perfect lead in to what I have planned for the next few chapters, so I decided to let the story stand as it wanted to.

I did not have as much time to edit the chapter as I usually do, so if you spot any errors / mistakes, just leave a message / review about them so I can fix them (dont expect there to be too many, but still...).

On a side note – the changes to the original script are starting to pile up; the direction the story goes next is going to be quite different from what the movie was. Guess after close to 100k words of story I finally arrived at the point where this becomes 'my' story instead of the rewrite of the movie. Hope you all stick with me, it's going to be a bumpy ride.

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Saienai


	24. 1st-22: The Blood Upon His Hands

**~Ouroboros~**

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**1****st**** – 22. The Blood Upon His Hands**

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He lay on his bed, staring unseeingly up at the rafters above him, completely unresponsive to the world. The battle that took place not even an hour ago flashed through his head, refusing to leave him alone. Not for the first time he wondered just where it all started to go so wrong.

Was it when in a moment of panic he attempted to ward off the dragon with his axe and had instead managed to slice open its head, or was it back when moments after it landed on the ground that he decided for some unfathomable reason to turn around and continue the fight instead of running off as half his mind screamed for him to do? Wouldn't it have been better for everyone if he had just ran off the moment he saw the Zippeback above them instead of believing for some strange reason that the eel blood coating his axe would somehow miraculously make the dragon retreat without even a token of resistance?

Hel take him, everyone already thought that he was nothing but a bloody waste of space in the kill ring – doing nothing but hindering others as they trained; so what if they were proven right? Why did he even care about their opinions enough to try and succeed in front of them, to do something that would be considered awe inspiring? Why did he wish to single handily take care of the dragon?!

_Why!?_

Well, he got his wish didn't he? Even in the state of shock he had been in, he had still seen the others staring at him with disbelief and heard Gobber congratulating them for doing so well – congratulating _him_ for injuring the Zippleback, not even understanding that that was the last thing Hiccup wanted to have done.

He was completely horrified at what the last remnants of his wish to be acknowledged had accomplished, and Gobber's words did little more than force the blade of pain deeper into his chest – almost as if every word his mentor uttered was one more nail pounded into him, one more rusty nail driving in the truth of what he had done.

_'Very well done Hiccup!'_

_'Just look at that scar upon its face – it's been over a decade that a trainee managed to heavily wound a dragon in the ring, and I think yours is by far the worst! In a good way I mean, heck just look at it bleed!'_

Astrid's look of disbelief, mirrored by the others flashed through his mind, just as crystal clear as it had been an hour ago when he had actually seen it. They were amazed – awed by the fact that weak little Hiccup managed to wound the dragon so deeply.

_The idiots – Hel take them all, they just don't understand!_

How just like the rest of his life this day turned out to be – full of hope in the morning… all of which is summarily dashed and stomped on throughout the day until not even a spec remained.

Turning around and throwing his face into the furs lining his bed so as not to see the sun shining innocently into his room – such a sharp contrast to the dark thoughts in his mind that it was painful to see – Hiccup threw himself further into the downwards spiral of his thoughts. In his mind there was no doubt that he had killed that Zippleback; the sheer amount of blood he had seen being more than enough for him.

_Funny isn't it? I got my wish – what with all of them having seen me kill it, none can deny my claim to Vikinghood… As if I care for something as stupid as that!_

_Hey everyone, like up! Just like your fathers before you, you get a chance to become a Viking! What an amazing trade – stain your hands in dragon blood, become one of us!_

_And they do, not even noticing Loki's smooth lies around them like a sick miasma in the air, they all do. Not only that, but they look forward to it! Speaking of which, so did I – for years my most fervent wish was to stain my hands…_

_They are certainly stained now, aren't they…_

He didn't need to look at his hands to see the blood on them, in fact he could see it better this way than if he actually looked at them since Gobber had stood by and made sure Hiccup took a bath to wash away all the blood and grime covering him.

_'Don't worry lad'_ he had said _'nothing but shock, the first time always is. The next time it will be easier.'_

_Lies, that's all it was, nothing but lies._

This _was_ the second time his hands were stained with dragon blood – the first being when he had almost killed Toothless, the blade having come within half an inch of the Nightfury's heart.

The next moment the memory of his axe striking at the dragon pushed to the front, although the approaching Zippleback was replaced by a calmly sitting Toothless. Even as he fought to try and stop his hand from completing its swing, he knew it was all for naught. He couldn't tear away his eyes as the axe made contact, carving up the side of Toothless' face and wrecking his eye, even as the Nightfury's shock and disbelief at his actions accentuated his own. …_Why?_

Hiccup pushed himself to the side and emptied his stomach all over the floor, heedless of the mess he was making. The only thing he could do was remain there, hunched over the side of the bed, and try to remove that image from his head. It was all for naught though – eyes open or closed, his hand striking down his only friend was burned into his retinas.

The door to his room creaked, and Hiccup threw himself once more face down on the bed, not even bothering with the horrible taste lingering in his mouth –

The taste of blood and ashes.

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* * *

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Making his way to his apprentice's room Gobber briefly thought about the best way to handle the situation. Being the one in charge of training up younglings, he was more aware than most that no matter how much they boasted about looking forward to killing dragons, first blood was always a moment of shock. That was the reason after all why most younglings were taken on hunting expeditions for several years prior to being put through dragon training – there just wasn't a better way to desensitize them to blood and death than by making them watch Vikings shoot down and dismember deer and be made to help out during later expeditions.

Even the fire-fighting duties during dragon raids were partially there to expose future Vikings to the bloodstained lifestyle they would, and did, live in.

Pausing in front of Hiccup's door, Gobber scowled when he heard something wet splatter across the floor within, followed by gagging and spitting – he didn't need three guesses to know what was going on.

It was at times like this that he could honestly say he hated some of the decisions that Stoick had made with regards to his son – well, most of them really. Thrust off to the side and always forgotten when time came around to select younglings to come along for hunts, it was no wonder that Hiccup would take nearly making his first kill in pitched battle so badly. The way Stoick pushed his son out of the way during dragon raids didn't help the matter – sure Hiccup had seen blood and death; but as today had proven – it wasn't anywhere near enough. _Heck, he hasn't even killed a single hare yet, let alone slit the throat of a deer or sheep and seen its eyes as it bled to death as all the other younglings had done!_

Astrid was the perfect example of how the younglings should behave by now – to Gobber's trained eye it was all too plain to see that she considered killing dragons the same way as killing sheep. The only thing left for Gobber to do was to make her understand the added danger of doing the former – after all sheep rarely attempted to burn, bite, or eviscerate their potential killers.

Hiccup however…

By Forseti, Stoick had been right on that – he really wasn't ready to enter dragon training, though through no fault of his own. Sure he always ran around boasting that 'one of these days' he would bring down a dragon, but the difference between thinking you could do something and actually doing it was like the one between night and day.

It was kind of a mixed blessing that the Zippleback had survived; there wasn't any reason to burden his apprentice with his first kill on top of everything else. Not that there was any real doubt about that – although quite gruesome to someone unused to such things, the gash was mostly superficial for a dragon due to their insane healing speed.

The axe had failed to break its way through the dragon's skull and didn't even come close to landing a decisive hit across the neck. The eye was gone, true, but it wasn't as if the dragon didn't have three more that were perfectly fine. _I might even start calling it three-eyes or something, and the scar would only serve to increase its aura of danger when it gets time for the next batch of younglings._

_… and now I am just stalling the inevitable._

Cursing Stoick for making him take this portion of fatherhood upon himself (like many other portions before), Gobber pushed the door open and walked in, unsurprised to see the half-digested mess on the floor and Hiccup's form looming over it before he noticed his mentor coming in and threw himself face forward onto the bed.

"So I see breakfast didn't agree with you eh?" There wasn't any response, not that Gobber had expected any. Letting off a deep sigh he hobbled along and sat himself down on the side of Hiccup's bed, his apprentice lying prone upon it within easy reach. He didn't reach out though, instead opting to lay his hands on his knees and glance downwards, not even looking at Hiccup. There would be time for physical contact, but that would come later.

"Look lad – I know just how shocking first blood can be. Though you might not believe me, I myself had trouble taking my first life. Sure I hardly even think about it now, but I had nightmares for several days after that. All Vikings do, though they may deny it." Gobber said, his voice conveying his seriousness despite speaking softly enough that anyone outside the room wouldn't have heard him.

"What with you doing reasonably well during dragon training, I sometimes forget that you aint been on a single hunting expedition as the others have. I know you've seen blood and death before, what with the last dragon raid-" he broke off here, cursing himself and glancing over noticed Hiccup stiffen. He hadn't wanted to bring that up – especially not now…

Still, at least he knew Hiccup was listening; switching tracks he continued. "Yer father should be the one telling ye this after your first trip out hunting, but… Look – we're Vikings Hiccup; nay – even before that, we'r all human. All of us – you, me, your father; everyone you know – have to kill to survive. Every day you eat fish or meat, and ye must know that one of us killed it. It's the way of life for us, and there is absolutely _nothing_ wrong about it.

"Or what - you think it wrong of wolves to hunt and kill others? Or perhaps that it is wrong of us Vikings to kill them when they try and attack our hunting groups? Just as they kill to survive, so too do we. That's just the way life is Hiccup, and like it or not it applies to everyone, humans and dragons included.

"Now this may come as a relief to you, but contrary to what ye must have convinced yourself, the Zippleback aint dead. Sure it's got a mighty long gash across one of its mugs, but so do a lot of Vikings in the village and they seem to be no less for that. Still, seeing the righty mess you are, I think its way past time for you to make your first kill. I told the others to take the next few days off while the two of us go hunting. Did the same thing way back for my own son, and between you and me ye'r a surrogate son of sorts for me."

Reaching out with his only hand, Gobber ruffled Hiccup's hair and stood up to make his way out. He had done all he could, or would after tomorrow's trip out hunting. After that… it was all up to Hiccup. Halfway to the door he turned around and looked at his apprentice with worry – he never before doubted that anyone born on Berk would sooner or later become used to taking life, but now he did. After all, Hiccup was…

_Different_

Stoick's wording, not his – but unfortunately they fit his scrawny apprentice all too well.

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* * *

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Hiccup didn't move a muscle as he felt Gobber leave, and waited until the sounds of his mentor's steps faded away before he let himself relax. Perhaps it was one of the few Viking-like traits he had inherited from his parents, but he didn't want the old blacksmith to see just how much of an effect his words had on him.

While he was still a chaotic bundle of mixed emotions, at least now they weren't all negative. Sure, there was apprehension at Gobber's insistence for them to go on a hunting expedition as early as tomorrow – both from the uncertainty of how it would go and from having to leave Toothless alone for several days or more… But on the other hand there was also happiness and relief that he had not inadvertently killed the Zippleback that he had only been trying to get to back off.

All of that paled next to a feeling that he could only describe as pride – something he hasn't ever really felt in his life.

_'ye'r a surrogate son of sorts'_

_'surrogate son'_

It felt… amazing… to find out that Gobber really thought of him that way – sure Hiccup always knew that the two of them were closer than strictly mentor-apprentice, and yet to have Gobber actually say that he considered him as almost his own son was something he had never expected to happen.

Sure his father referred to him as 'my son', but those words were usually preceded or followed by a long sigh or a shake of his head that made it all too clear that it was little more than an accident of birth – an unfortunate similarity of blood, an association to his name that could not be removed or forgotten about.

On the other hand, to have Gobber acknowledge him this way made it abundantly clear that his mentor didn't think this way about him. He truly meant something to Gobber, and the old blacksmith was actually proud of him.

Having sought acknowledgement for the better part of his life until now, he had expected to feel at the top of the world, but all there was was dull happiness and satisfaction. For something that he had nearly killed the one who had so quickly become his best friend to achieve, he had expected something… more.

Rolling around Hiccup wormed his way under the fur covers, not even bothering with removing his outer clothes. What with everything that had occurred this day, he felt too emotionally drained to do anything productive. It was still not even noon, but a couple hours of sleep would be a god send at the moment. After that he would need to visit Toothless to give him the re-worked tailfin along with an explanation of why he wouldn't be coming around for the next few days.

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* * *

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Astrid stalked her way through the village, heading off to the store houses along the periphery of the docks. Although her shield had come out of battle with only a few dents and scratches, it would take days of work to repair her axe. What with everything else going on she had more important things to keep her eyes on than the safety of her axe, so she had missed the exact point when its edge became the dented mess it was now.

_The damn Zippleback must have stepped on it or something._

Not that this was the first time her axe had been in a state of disrepair – hurling it around in the woods for practice or just to vent off anger tended to come with hand in hand with a chance of denting it against an ill placed rock. Normally she would just hand it off to Gobber, but she just wanted to stay away from the forge today – or really any place Hiccup frequents…

Now that she thought about it, besides Gobber's forge nothing else sprung to mind – even with the arm's length kind of acquaintanceship she had with all the others of her age, it was surprising to know that she didn't actually know much about Hiccup.

Not that she wanted to of course, it was just all too surprising to see Hiccup of all people do better than her. The one time she landed a similar strike against a dragon, the Nadder staggered away with little more than a bruise to show for it; while Hiccup managed to land a blow that had permanently wounded the dragon.

Thor strike her down, but she was sure she heard whispers about Hiccup's _accomplishments_ already circulating amongst the Vikings! For someone who has been all but slated to sweep through dragon training, it galled her like nothing else to find the walking fishbone doing better than her!

In the state of mind she was in, Astrid wasn't sure if she would calmly congratulate Hiccup, scoff at his actions as little more than a fluke, or shove wild accusations at him at the top of her lungs until he quailed in the corner and admitted to her being his better. Really, it was for the best that Hiccup would be out of the village for the next few days. She could get her axe repaired later, and just borrow one from the warehouses along the docks that she could use to practice, and practice she will. Her mom may frown at having Astrid take even more time to train, but if nothing else today had shown all too well that if anything she hadn't been training enough.

The next time they had to face a dragon in the kill ring, it would be _her_ actions that the Vikings would be whispering about afterwards. Nothing would stand between her and the champion's place against the Monstrous Nightmare. She would fight it in front of the entire village, she would kill it, and she would be hailed as the next coming of Valhalarama.

She would become the Viking her brother had always wanted to be, and no excuse of a Viking like Hiccup was going to stop her.

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* * *

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The chains rattled as the counterweight to the wooden plank keeping the Zippleback's cage closed was allowed to sink down. Removing his hand from the lever, Gobber picked up the halfway full basket of fish and threw it over his shoulder, its weight barely registering to someone who had been the village's blacksmith for over twenty years.

Unsurprisingly the dragon did not attempt to get out – after a few years of beating them back most learned not to stick their heads out when Gobber was alone. Twice or so each month he would open the doors and stand back to allow them to fly around the ring for an hour or so, but other than that and dragon training, the beasts were kept behind well locked and highly reinforced doors. After a while even the most mule-headed dragon got used to their new lifestyle.

Hooking the end of his metal fishing spear currently serving as a replacement for his missing arm in between the doors and pulling back, Gobber listened for any sound amidst the squeaking hinges that would signify things going drastically wrong. No matter now docile they seemed; they were dragons after all. If there was anything his predecessor taught him, it was that swift death was all too often preceded by just a single moment of inattention.

With the door opened enough to allow the sun to shine in, Gobber was able to see the Zippleback curled up in the far corner of the cage. _Seems like today is going to be the same as always._ He had been slightly worried that losing one of its eyes would send the dragon into a rage similar to the one-wing, but it was clear that the axe strapped to the side of his belt wasn't going to be needed this day.

"Ye know, with the way you seem to be busy sleeping one would think you don't want any of the salmon I brought – freshly caught too, none of those week old leftovers I usually feed ya lot. So here you go – all yours to eat."

Hobbling his way in, Gobber dropped down the basket of fish and opening it up spilled its contents onto the floor of the cage barely a foot in from the doorway. Stepping back he waited for the smell to wake up the dragon, and frowned when there was no perceptible movement from the beast – not even a slight twitch of its tail.

Leaving the fish where it was, Gobber made his way towards the coiled up dragon, completely disregarding the worried murmurs of his helper out in the ring. He wouldn't normally – dragons were dangerous enough without you willingly putting yourself within range of most of their attacks; but in this case he made an exception. Perhaps subconsciously he already knew what he would find; having seen something similar all too often; that and the feeling inside him that he relied upon to warn him of danger was eerily silent.

With barely any hesitation – for if his sense of danger had ever led him wrong he would have been dead a hundred times over – he reached over and laid his hand against one of the Zippleback's necks. A moment later he pulled away, and this time without any hesitation to speak of moved to open one of its eyelids.

Perhaps he should have felt surprise at seeing a dragon brought down by what was obviously a major but nowhere close to life-threatening wound, but instead there was only worry.

_Hiccup is not going to take this well…_

Hearing a gasp behind him, Gobber spun around in time to see the shocked expression of the Viking he brought along to carry all the fish for the dragons _Helgi, that's her name – three years since I taught her group._

"Is- Is it dead?" The shock and awe in Helgi's voice was all too clear to Gobber, and he couldn't supress a wince as he thought about the rapidly dwindling chances of keeping this under wraps until he could get away with Hiccup and try to gently break it to the lad – preferably after he had made several kills during the hunt. It would also help to keep him away from the village until it all calmed down – it's been generations since the last dragon was actually killed during training – even with four to six younglings in a group it was usually all they could do to land a hit that would stun the dragon. For some reason the dragons kept in the ring were not only calmer but also typically survived even hits that should have killed them. He just chalked it up to them being stronger originally – having been captured instead of killed off during the raids.

Same for Hiccup's hit really – the wound would have been enough to stun a dragon during a raid, but all it did was cause the Zippleback to stop attacking and back down…

And by the looks of it, somehow killed it…

"Ye, the lad must have landed quite a lucky hit against it – I could have sworn that the dragon would be up and ready for the next session of training within a day or two, and ya know I aint often wrong about such things. First time I have been actually."

"Must have been some hit eh?" Helgi was as close to bouncing on her feet as her pride as a Viking allowed her to be, and to Gobber it was all too clear that three years of fighting off dragons did little to break her away from her love for gossip. "Um- are we done here? I have something I need to do so…"

_Of course she does – if she has her way, before the day is over the entire village will know about how Hiccup singlehandedly killed a dragon in the kill ring after only facing two dragons before it._

Worse still, he didn't have any reason not to let her go… Gobber's eyes flickered over to the now useless pile of salmon. _That could work._

"Yea, we're done here. Just shove all the fish back into the basket and bring it over to the docks. I'll just leave you to this – don't bother to lock up when ye'r done; doubt the Zippleback would escape even with a wide open door, what with it being dead and all.

Noticing the frantic pace at which Helgi was tackling the last task he gave her, Gobber shook his head and hobbled as fast as he could out of the ring. He was sure that Hiccup would have been too tired to do much else but rest, but it had been over five hours since he had left his apprentice – cleaning out the cages and feeding the dragons wasn't a job to scoff at.

He could only hope that Hiccup was still in the forge or sleeping above it – if so all he needed to do was grab a couple of bows, a pair of quivers full of arrows, a sack of provisions and necessary items, Hiccup, and perhaps a heavy coat or two in case the weather turned nasty as it had a tendency of doing around here. That should all take no more than a couple of minutes, and the two of them could be out of the village before Helgi finished.

_Should have made her wash all the fish as well – that and hang it back in place. Knowing her she would just dump the basket at the nearest store house – that's if she doesn't stop on the way there to gossip._

_… oh who am I kidding – of course she will._

A few moments later found Gobber cursing quite loudly inside the empty confines of his forge – he should have known better than to expect Hiccup to do anything that would keep his life simple.

Somehow, he knew that things were not going to turn out well.

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* * *

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Gobber's thoughts were right on the mark – Helgi made record time in shoving all the fish into the basket, and by the time she had managed to make her way to the docks she had already told no less than fifteen others about how Stoick's son had been holding out on them all. Already several groups of Vikings have gathered across the village to discuss the latest news.

"Well, with Stoick and Valhalarama as his parents, it ant a wonder that he can do something like that – it's all in the blood I say."

"Always thought there was more to him – get someone like Gobber to properly train the lad and the Viking in him will shine through."

"Speaking of the lad – there he goes!" As one the group of Vikings turned to see Hiccup making his way along the main road across the village leading to the Meade hall and further off to the bridges leading into Berk's forest. Perhaps a month ago Hiccup would have appreciated being the center of positive attention, but considering that at the moment he was lugging a basket full of fish along with an artificial dragon's tailfin off into the forests surrounding Berk, this was not a good time for him.

With eyes that would look more in place on a lame footed deer that had caught sight of the wolf stalking it, Hiccup stared with barely concealed dread as a group of ten or so Vikings surrounded him. Bracing himself for the awkward questions that were soon to follow, he still could not prevent himself from flinching as the literal wave of voices assaulted him; soon followed by his knees buckling from one of the Vikings slapping his hand down on Hiccup's shoulder.

" – did well ya did! Finally living up to the Haddock tradition!"

" – watch how you handle the rest of training, but have to say it's been generations since someone brought down a dragon during training – Nightmares not included of course eh?"

"Sure Stoick handled his first even before training, but we can't all be-"

"Now don't let this go to your head ya hear!"

And then mercifully there came a single voice of reason: "Come now, stop crowding the lad! I swear he's looking at us like we're a horde of dragons!"

There was some shuffling, and Hiccup could breathe once more, not that it did any good to his hopelessly lost mind. Somehow, when he had imagined getting caught stealing fish from the docks, this situation wasn't the result he had envisioned.

"Anyway, we just wanted to congratulate you on doing so well in training – what with the way you handled the Zippleback and everything." The same Viking that had prevented Hiccup's suffocation spoke what was on everyone's mind, and the others murmured their agreement. For a moment it was all Hiccup could do but stare uncomprehendingly at the increasingly surrealistic situation he had been caught up in before the words spoken at him finally clicked in.

Feeling a strange combination of relief that his daily escapades have not been discovered, and a pang of pain and regret as he once more remembered the wound he had accidentally inflicted on the Zippleback, Hiccup prepared to talk his way out of the crowd before someone actually noticed the strange set of items that he was carrying.

"Yes well you know – Gobber is quite a wonder at training up Vikings, and it was really just a lucky hit…" The irony of the situation wasn't lost on him – every time he did something 'un-Viking like' or messed up (which typically also fell into the category of 'un-Vikingness'), he tried to put a positive spin on things; and yet here he was, downplaying his actions now that he had finally done something even his dad would hae to agree was Viking-like.

Not even a month ago all he wanted was the positive attention of the Vikings, but now… _now all I want is to remain in obscurity so no one notices my increasingly weird behaviour. _Let's see – stealing fish and leather, sneaking off alone into the forest, making strange things in the forge… and of course let's not forget meeting with a Nightfury (or consorting with the enemy as Astrid would probably say).

_Right… weird behaviour didn't even begin to describe this._

"Oh don't be so modest Hiccup – I know we weren't exactly rooting for ya, but ye got to agree that you didn't give us much to work with. Now though…"

"That's right! Don't you realize it has been over forty winters since someone managed to do what you just did? Even if the gods smiled on you this day you still needed at least some skills to pull that off!"

With the conversation rapidly becoming uncomfortable, Hiccup glanced around, futilely checking to see if there was a gap in the gathered group of Vikings he could slip through. There wasn't one of course, though he did notice Gobber far off in the distance, hobbling over. That was both a godsend and a horrible nightmare – he could always count on his mentor to extract him from increasingly awkward situations (of which this undoubtedly was one), but the chances of Gobber not asking about the 'latest contraption' Hiccup was carrying was virtually nil. The basket of fish hanging across his shoulders for which there was no use for in the woods only added to the problem.

"You know, somehow I doubt that I am the only one who had ever wounded a dragon in the kill-ring" Hiccup answered absentmindedly – his focus entirely on coming up with a reason for him being _here_ with the incriminating items that would pass Gobber's inspection.

_I could try saying that I was looking for him to ask if it was possible to give the Zippleback the fish – I am… weird that way, so Gobber might believe that. Now what about the tailfin?_

There was a ripple in the crowd and had Hiccup been paying attention, he would noticed that he was not the only one feeling lost.

"You mean you don't know yet? I thought the entire village knew by now – you didn't just wound the Zippleback, you managed to bring it down permanently – that's what we are talking about!"

_I could make it out to be a new design for… something. But what? – There aren't that many things a tailfin _could _be…_

"Shame that the other younglings won't get to have a go against it again, but by Thor we can't begrudge you that – we all know how much you wanted to kill a dragon, and now you've done it!"

_Of course with Gobber being a long time veteran he would spot the resemblance all too quickly… Wait, what if I went with that – I made an artificial tailfin so as to test out my latest contraption to kill a dragon! _It was a long stretch, he knew that, but with Gobber mere seconds away it would have to do.

"Uh- right! Words cannot describe how happy I am to hear your praise! It may have been a fluke killing the dragon, but the next time it's going to be all me. Now if you will just excuse me, Gobber is here and I have something… very… important…" Hiccup's voice trailed off as his thoughts ground to a halt. He hadn't been paying attention to those around him, and only now did he come to understand exactly _what_ the others were congratulating him for – the damning words having spilt from his own lips when he unknowingly iterated one of the gathered Viking's words.

_-killing the dragon…_

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* * *

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Gobber watched with a pang of pain as his apprentice's grief stricken eyes glanced at him before Hiccup bolted away, pushing through the slowly dispersing group of Vikings. Not even consciously aware of it Gobber sped up into his own semblance of a run, but slowed to a halt only a few paces in.

There was nothing much he could do to help Hiccup – not when he was in such a state. If he was right – and Gobber knew he was – then by the time he pushed his way through the group, Hiccup would already be halfway to the forest. Even if he tried to catch up to his apprentice, Hiccup would lose him within the dense growth that the lad seemed to know better than the back of his hand.

Trailing his hand across his face Gobber released a sigh at the way everything seemed to spiral out of control. It was times like these that caused him to seriously consider that at least a few gods have cursed Hiccup at birth – no other reason could adequately describe why Hiccup never seemed to be able to catch a break.

Really, in between Hiccup's constant bad luck, the decisions that Stoick made regarding his son and Gobber himself forgetting that his apprentice hasn't even been bloodied yet, it was a wonder that Hiccup was still alive and reasonably sane.

_Now if only he stays that way – the forest is dangerous enough when you are being careful. _That, and he doubted that everything that has happened today was going to have a positive impact on his apprentice's disposition and general sanity.

Turning around to head back to his forge, Gobber paused as another similar situation assaulted his mind, rising up from the depths within which he had buried it.

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* * *

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There was really no warning – one moment their hunting group is strolling through the forest, the next an enraged boar is already within a few paces of them. The lucky few dove out of the way, the two other veterans like him managing to stick the spears they all carried through the tough hide. His son though… was not fortunate.

A single grunt was all he heard amidst the general chaos, and glancing to the side his heart sank as he realized that it was Eagleeye that hadn't managed to get out of the way in time. Caught full on, only the dragon bone sewn into his son's hunting vest prevented him from being eviscerated by the boar's tusks.

The next few moments are too frantic to remember properly, but one thing stands out clearly – the sight of his son falling down the icy cliff, still clinging to the boar. The winter landscape of Berk is perilous enough when paying attention, and with neither Eagleeye nor the beast capable of seeing where they were heading, their fate was a foregone conclusion. It would forever haunt him - the frantic squealing of the boar mixed in with his son's startled cry as they plummeted down was not something any man should hear.

He ran to the edge, heedless of the danger its icy state had for him. Only the actions of the other Vikings saved him from following his son down. With the wordless horror still within his throat, he glances down to see his son, miraculously alive. The same boar that had brought him down had provided him with a soft landing, sparing him from the fate that it had brought upon itself.

He stared down at his son and even as he felt relief washing away the weight upon his chest he berated himself for not taking at least a full bundle of rope from their camp which was half a day's walk from here. The short length they always carried with them to tie up their kill wouldn't even reach halfway down.

"We should head back to camp to get some equipment" one of the younger hunters offered, and the veterans winced – it was a good idea, but they felt the winter storm approaching. That was the reason after all why they were cutting their hunt short and on the way back to camp.

There wouldn't be time to come back before the blizzard was upon them and visibility dropped to nothing.

"Go on! I think I see a way up from here which I can try. If not, I will just hole up and wait for you to come back. Skathi hasn't forsaken me yet – I've got an entire boar worth of meat here, and my furs will keep me warm as well. You won't come back to find be buried under a snow drift, that's for sure." His son's upbeat voice was heard from the foot of the cliff, and loath as he was to leave his son, he knows it is the best move – the only one really.

"Just stay safe until we return – I need you to take over the forge after I lose my other arm one of these days."

"You know me dad. I'll hold out until you get back. Just don't take your sweet time alright? The boar's meat might go bad if you take too long, and it isn't often we come across a prime specimen as this one."

He turned around and walked away, following the rest of the group; leaving behind his son, his heart, and a prayer to Odin that would go unanswered.

The storm hit when they were almost at the camp, and lasted for over three days. By the time it cleared up, his grief laden soul knew what his mind still refused to acknowledge – he was the last of his family once more.

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* * *

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Shaking away the last dregs of his painful memories, Gobber let off a prayer that this time, things would be different. He had already lost his son once; he doubted he could go through it again.

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* * *

**A/N**

That was a heavy chapter for sure – quite difficult to write as well. Hope I didn't overdo on the angst and misery there. I really wanted to include the up-down-up of Hiccup's thoughts along with Gobber consoling him (and the entire kill to live speech). I actually planned to have the entire group of younglings go on the hunting trip together, but having it be just Gobber and Hiccup should work out in the end.

That last bit about the death of Gobber's son was completely spontaneous. I had it written down in my story outline that Eagleeye dies during a hunting accident, and just left it murky as to what actually happened. Leafing through the drafts for the 3rd cycle I found a longer explanation, but decided to forgo it for the scene you see here. I was actually quite surprised it came out to almost 600 words – I was hoping for a short memory of perhaps one or two paragraphs…

Seriously, the story never allows me to do what I want. I would put in a blurb about the story writing itself through me, but no – quite a bit of it is completely mine… it's the parts not covered by the 'quite a bit' that I worry about.

Anyway - thanks to everyone who read and reviewed my story so far (and thanks to all who will in the future). There is little else that can inspire a writer (speaking from personal experience) to keep going than reading through the comments seeing how many people truly find your story interesting enough to... well... write a blurb saying so.

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Saienai


	25. 1st-23: Guilt and Forgiveness

**~Ouroboros~**

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**1****st**** – 23. Guilt and Forgiveness**

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I paced the confines of my cove, barely able to keep myself from glancing at the sun goddess every few minutes.

_Late. He was late._

It was already two hours since the time I had come to expect Hiccup to show up, and the last dregs of my draconic patience were ebbing away.

_Where is he!? Doesn't he know how important my tailfin is to me? Why is it taking so long for him to arrive?_

Normally I would have easily waited out the few extra hours (or even a day or two), content to just sit around or perhaps go out hunting; but considering that I was effectively tied to the ground until Hiccup returned with my tailfin, time simply couldn't flow fast enough.

Ever since Hiccup had somehow persuaded me with words of an infinitely better tailfin to let the old one be taken off, I had been in a state of constantly churning emotions. The itching that I had come to associate with _skylust_ were gone, although a ghost of it seemed to remain and make itself known every now and then – spiking every time irrational doubts of whether or not Hiccup was coming back crept into my mind.

Not quite irrational now – what with Hiccup being late.

The biggest part of me wanted to believe him – wanted to believe in the human hatchling that had somehow managed to give me back my flight. Hiccup held a special place in my heart now – from the shaky start when we both tried to kill each other, we had somehow managed to become friends without really noticing it happen.

_Or so you thought eh – face it, he abandoned you._

I shook my head to clear off that thought. Hiccup didn't abandon me – what reason would he have to do that, especially after everything he had done to allow me to fly once more. Perhaps him being late wasn't something he wanted – perhaps something happened back in his village that prevented him from coming around.

_But he promised you that he would return with the new tailfin… no matter what._

Shut up!

I let off a loud roar, and prancing off to where I had previously burned myself a nest heated up the rocks once more. Settling down on the pleasantly warm ground, I closed my eyes and took several deep breaths. Hiccup would come – I just knew it. All I needed to do was wait patiently for him…

A twig snapped close by, and I snapped my head in that direction, my mind already painting the image of Hiccup walking into the cove with my tailfin grasped in between his claws. I could already see his beaming smile, his green eye (so much like mine) glowing with excitement and happiness. 'Hey there Toothless' – he would say, and I would finish my bounce to him, lay my tail at the mercy of his paws, and he would finally make me whole again, laughing all the while at my antics.

My mind wasn't wrong – perhaps five or so wingspans away from me stood Hiccup, a partially open basket releasing the appetizing smell of fish upon his shoulders, and (most importantly) my tailfin held loosely under one of his upper paws.

That was where the similarities ended.

I am not sure what I noticed first – the water leaking from his eyes to streak down his cheeks, the limpness of his paws and the way his entire body seemed to barely keep itself up, or the dishevelled state of his outer furs. It didn't matter though – all my thoughts and unease about my tailfin flew out of my head to be replaced with worry for Hiccup.

I was already on my second leap towards him when I noticed all that, and skid to a stop a single wingspan away from him.

_:: … Hiccup? :: _I asked, subconsciously letting off a soft wail.

His eyes shifted from the ground to look towards mine, and my breath hitched when I saw them – grief-stricken and missing the shine within them that I had not even consciously noticed until it was no longer there. The hopelessness and sheer self-loathing emitted by his mind washed over mine, and for a moment I could not even think as they threatened to completely swallow me. Gathering my rapidly dwindling strength I pushed back, horrified at the difficulty I was having doing that. _Oh twin goddesses - If it is so difficult for me to push away the feelings his mind is unconsciously releasing, then how much stronger are they within his own!?_

I needed to do something before his mind shattered under the pressure – something fast.

I took a step towards Hiccup, forcing my mind closer at the same time. The dark wave of emotion emitting from his mind slammed into me again, but I was ready for it. A bit more, and I was close enough to gently nuzzle his face with my snout. Almost as if it was waiting for an outside force to push at it, Hiccup's body crumpled down on the ground.

I came closer, curling around his prone body. Shuffling my head inwards, I stopped only when I felt his head lie against my neck. Opening up one of my wings, I draped it over Hiccup, hiding him from the world that had caused him… _this._

His body shook silently, and cradled as he was safely within my grasp I tried to calm him down. It was no use though – even though his mind was sending out his feelings strongly enough that even other humans of his tribe should be able to feel them (to speak nothing of any dragons on this island), pushing my own calming thoughts in was like attempting to fly through solid rock.

That is not to say I didn't try, but after almost an entire _moonfull_ of attempts I had to desist. The only thing I could do was curl protectively around both his mind and body, and hope for the best.

_:: Hiccup… ::_

I felt almost as useless as I had when I found myself chained to the ground, my flight taken away from me.

_:: Hiccup… please be alright. ::_

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* * *

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It was perhaps half an hour later that his body stopped shaking and the constant waves of emotion subsided enough for me to no longer wince whenever another one assaulted my mind. Throughout the entire time there wasn't a single sound from him, which I could only pray was a good sign.

I am not sure how long I waited, curled around Hiccup to provide at least a small measure of support – to show him that no matter what had happened that had caused his mind to nearly break down in such a horrifying way, I was still there for him. At some point though, Hiccup stirred and moved his hitherto limp paws to hug my neck. I started crooning softly then, as my mother had done to calm me down whenever I hurt myself.

I felt a tremor pass through him, and then the paw that he held underneath my neck moved slowly to rest over my vocal cords, feeling the song I sung for him. My uneasiness lifted a bit at that – I had also tried to bury myself into my mother's neck whenever she crooned for me, her voice soothing away all my worries. Perhaps humans and dragons weren't that different after all…

I continued my song, stopping only when the absence of air in my lungs forced me to take another breath.

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* * *

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Kneeling there, his hands wrapped tightly over Toothless' neck, the vibrations of his best friend's song gradually calming him down, Hiccup wondered just what he had done to deserve the friendship of such a pure being. It just didn't fit – not when his hands were marred with blood…

The memory of his axe slashing through the Zippleback's head flashed through his mind; followed by the vivid memories of him shooting down Toothless, of standing over the prone body of the Nightfury and pushing his dagger closer and closer to the dragon's heart. They pained him – the horror he felt at his own actions (and worse – their consequences) being almost unbearable. And that was just it – it wasn't unbearable. Something about Toothless' soothing croons softened their blows.

"Thanks Toothless…" he muttered into his friend's scales, and felt them move underneath him as Toothless shifted, his song fading away.

Pushing himself into a sitting position, Hiccup watched as Toothless uncoiled slightly to allow them to see each other face to face. He could feel Toothless' unease and worry – the soft wail his friend released only accentuating the unvoiced question.

_:: What's wrong Hiccup? What happened? ::_

"It's nothing… " The answer spilled from his lips without him even thinking about it – just as it had countless times before, whenever someone (anyone really) asked him how he was.

The only answer back was increased worry along with a twinge of disbelief. Hiccup let off a hollow laugh at that. Who was he kidding – of the two of them here, both knew that to be the furthest from the truth.

"Well… not exactly nothing. See- Toothless, I-" He swallowed to try and remove the lump building up in his throat.

"Did you know? I am a Viking now. Of course you don't – I only became one today."

Confusion, worry. Hiccup almost laughed again – he didn't know why but he wanted to laugh so badly… he would have too, if Toothless' song wasn't stuck in his mind. Truly – what did he do to deserve the friendship of such a pure being?

Nothing really, right?

"Toothless, I- We can't meet anymore. Not after today. I just-"

There was even more confusion now, with strands of betrayal and shock spliced in. Hiccup wouldn't be denied though – not when he had made his choice. It was for the best after all…

"Give me your tail. I made the tailfin better, and once it is attached you can fly again." _You won't need me any more…_

"You can be free, free to leave this island and never come back!" _I just… It would be for the best. I just don't know what I would do if I accidentally killed you too…_

Toothless recoiled at Hiccup's harsh voice, betrayal clear in his eyes. It stabbed at Hiccup's heart to see his friend like that, and almost subconsciously his hand twitched forward in an attempt to reach out to Toothless before he forced it down.

_:: Why?... ::_

"I am a Viking that's why! Don't you get it!? Vikings kill dragons and dragons kill Vikings – it's the way it's been, it's the way it is now, and it's the way it will always be!" It almost felt like he was tearing his soul in half to admit it, but Hiccup knew that it wasn't possible for there to be peace between them – too many deaths have been accrued on both sides… As his father had shown, too much hatred….

Too much blood lost, too many hands stained in it – _Mine too now…_

_:: So what! You are different Hiccup! Do you really think anyone else would have hesitated to kill me? Do you think anyone else would have tried – and succeeded! – in giving me back my skies!? ::_

Hiccup couldn't take it anymore – laughter ripped out of his throat, sounding insane even to his own ears.

"You don't get it do you! I already told you that I am a Viking now – do you know what that means? Sure I couldn't bring myself to kill you, but so what?! I fixed that – the entire village is now celebrating me killing that Zippleback – happy that I am continuing their bloody legacy!"

Seeing Toothless flinch away in disbelief, Hiccup took a step forward to close back the distance. He couldn't even remember standing up, but it didn't matter – not really. If anyone was to see them right now they would have found the scene extremely funny – or perhaps confusing. A reedy human child barely into his teen years, looming over a regally black dragon that was over ten times his weight; the dragon's head almost touching the ground, its wide eyes staring in shock and fear at the human.

_:: What – but, how Hiccup? … Why?... ::_

"Don't believe be eh!? It was all too simple really – a dash of eel blood on my axe, a nice scar across the Zippleback's face, and the rest, as they say, is history!"

Toothless pushed himself away even further, having long since uncoiled around Hiccup, and taking another step back shook his head in growing horror. He simply could not believe that Hiccup, of all people, would use the poisonous state of eels against them like this. _Have I been wrong about him? _Memories of all their time together flashed before his eyes, and he couldn't stop himself from wondering – was Hiccup really just pretending? Had all of their time together nothing more than a way for him to learn about dragons?

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* * *

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More laughter pierced the air, and I once again noticed just how painfully hollow it sounded. In a way it felt almost as if every single breath that Hiccup took was tearing away at him. Strangely enough, that thought calmed me down. I wasn't wrong about him. Just seeing Hiccup's nearly broken state made that clear.

I knew he wasn't lying about killing a dragon, much the same way as I could see that he regretted it. I drew myself closer to him, startling him and causing him to be the one to flinch back this time.

_:: Even so Hiccup, I will not leave you alone. No matter what you have done, no matter what you have caused, it will never change the fact that you gave me back my wings. No, even without that I wouldn't abandon you at a time like this… We are friends aren't we? ::_

I watched as Hiccup stumbled back, shaking his head. "How can you just – I killed one of your kin! Doesn't that mean anything to you!?"

_:: Yes, you did, but the same can be said about me, no? I do not know how many Vikings I have killed, but that just shows that you are not the only one whose claws are covered in blood. :: _I replied calmly. Hiccup just stood there, opening and closing his mouth several times, whatever response he tried to give dying before it passed his throat.

"But- That's just- Fine, forget it! Even so, did you completely forget that I was the one who almost killed you there in the clearing? I held the knife a hair breadth away from your heart!" he stuttered out.

_:: But you let me go. Even after I nearly killed you for it you came back to bring me food, provide me with company… bring me back my flight… ::_

"That I took away from you in the first place!" he shot back, and I froze.

_:: … What are you talking about? :: _I replied, but it was a moot question really – I knew that he had been the one to shoot me down. Knew it from the first moment I tasted his scent in those woods.

"The bola that tied you up and brought you down? The one that caused you to lose your tailfin in the first place? It was fired by me! Didn't you wonder just why it was me who found you there, why I came all alone? I shot you down but no one would believe me! The only reason I came to find you was to bring back proof that I killed a Nightfury!" _But I couldn't – I just couldn't bring myself to kill you. And yet, even after everything I have done to you, you still became my friend. I don't- I don't deserve that, don't you see!_

Perhaps it was the nearly broken state of his mind, but I heard the last part just as clear as if he had voiced it. My eyes widened as I finally understood just what had brought him to this state – what had caused him to break down like this.

Even though he was horrified at the death of another soul carrier at his hands, that was little more than the final push – the sudden and yet not so unexpected crash against the rocks after a broken dive. Hiccup's proverbial wings have been clipped ever since the moment he brought me down, the responsibility for my crippled state weighing him down more and more as we came closer together until the slightest burden could cause his wings to break.

Ironic, considering that I had forgiven him for this a long time ago – before I was even consciously aware that it was him I was forgiving.

_:: But you didn't, right? You released me instead, and gave me back the tailfin that you took from me. Perhaps I should thank you instead – if you haven't shot me down we could have never met each other. You would have continued on in your village, and I would have remained in the darkness. :: _

He stared at me in incomprehension, hearing but not believing what I was telling him. Still, it was as if his mind had heard what it needed to, for the dark thoughts threatening to tear it asunder dispersed. I didn't waste any time and pushed my own mind closer to his, tightening my embrace and gently helping it heal.

For another moment Hiccup just stared at me, before his eyes rolled up and he collapsed down into a heap on the ground – or would have if I had not shot forward to support him. Curling around him once more, I held him still as we both dozed off, the recent events having taken their toll on the both of us.

The real danger had passed, and I easily slipped into a deep sleep knowing that Hiccup will be all right.

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* * *

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The sun was just rising from amidst the trees to bathe the top of the cove in its morning light when Hiccup awoke. His first thought was that he was still dreaming, for stretched only a foot above him was a red cloth with interwoven darker red lines coursing through it – made out of some material he had never seen before. Tentatively reaching his hand out, he felt the material with his fingers, wondering at the soft warmth emanating from it. A low gurgle broke him out of his barely awake state, and turning around he spotted Toothless looking at him with concern.

Everything fell back into place after that as he remembered the events that brought him to be lying here with his back against Toothless' side. A flash of till now forgotten pain surfaced at that, but it was much weaker than before. The memories of his… conversation… with Toothless were quite blurry (he couldn't have actually heard Toothless talking after all), but he could still remember laying out all of the things that weighed down on his mind before Toothless, and having his friend casually knock them away.

He smiled, the gesture coming more naturally than even before his mother's death. Always before there was something on his mind, something that made his smile into little more than a mask – a coping mechanism if you will, much like his snarky sarcastic comments.

His father's distant disappointment, his mother's untimely death, the ever widening gap between father and son, his segregation from the others his age… and lately the memory of shooting down Toothless, of nearly killing his best friend…

Really, killing the Zippleback was little more than a final wound that tipped the scales and nearly broke him.

… Would have broken him if it wasn't for Toothless' support.

"Thanks Toothless – for being here for me, for being my friend… for everything."

Toothless crooned in reply, and Hiccup could feel just how glad he was that everything turned out alright.

Pushing himself back into a sitting position, Hiccup watched as the wing spread above him moved away, leaving him to squint at the bright morning light that was now shining down upon them.

While he was still getting used to the brightness around him, Toothless uncoiled around him and walked a short distance away to stretch. Squinting at the dragon's form as Toothless performed several almost cat-like postures (if cants had wings that is), Hiccup stood up and did some stretches himself, the muscles in his arms and legs tingling pleasantly as he did so. Hearing a splash a moment later, he turned around to spot Toothless rolling around in the shallow waters of the pool at the center of their cove, content gurgles accentuating the feelings of enjoyment that Hiccup could feel emanating from him.

A single glance at his mud caked clothes later had Hiccup stripping them away, completely disregarding the barely above freezing temperature. The dried up tear stains along his face itched worse than the dirt and grime that had managed to worm its way to his skin, and it wasn't as if he was a stranger to cold baths – lying around in hot water was a privilege that even his father enjoyed only once or so per month.

Besides, Toothless looked like he was having way too much fun for Hiccup to not want to join in.

The next ten minutes or so were filled with the sounds of laughter, gurgles, roars and splashes, the only low point being when Toothless had accidentally almost rolled right on top of Hiccup. Still, there was no way that could break their mood, and ten more minutes had them sitting across from each other in front of a fire, Hiccup's quickly washed clothes drying on top of Toothless' wing once more.

Silence stretched out, neither wanting to break the blissful atmosphere of contentment that encircled them. It wasn't until Hiccup's wandering eyes spotted the glittering reflection of the artificial tailfin lying halfway open twenty or so feet away from them that the moment ended. With a startled cry he ran off to get it, checking the construction several times over to make sure that neither of them had accidentally stepped and broken it while it lay forgotten in the grass.

A short bark of surprise brought Hiccup back to reality, and he noticed that Toothless had come around to see what had caused him to run off like that. He could feel embarrassed shock emanating from the dragon, and knew that just like him, Toothless had completely forgotten about the artificial tailfin in the wake of everything that had transpired yesterday.

"So you want to put it on now?" he asked, already expecting the warble he got in reply. Tying the tailfin back in place was only slightly easier than the first time, and Hiccup wasn't sure if it was because Toothless was keeping a better hold on his excitement or because he himself knew what to expect.

Watching as his best friend took off into the skies with noticeably less wobbling in his flight, Hiccup returned to the still burning fire to finish warming up and to set up some wooden pikes he could hang his clothing on for them to finish drying. This time it took longer for Toothless to come back from flying around, and by that time Hiccup already had his pants and shirt back on. The past few minutes he had spent thinking about what he was going to do now (as well as an explanation of where he had spent the night that Gobber would accept), and from what he could see there wasn't much he _could_ do.

Now if only he could get Toothless to see that.

Standing up, Hiccup walked over to his friend who was busy looking at his tail – turning it one way and then the other, or swishing it through the air.

"Well, I am glad it turned out to your liking." He said, and watched as Toothless snapped out of his daze, yelping in surprise. Waving away the feelings of embarrassment at getting caught flat footed, he continued; "It's a good thing too, as I um- well- can't quite make it here for the next few days."

"It has nothing to do with what we er- 'discussed' before – just that Gobber, that's my mentor in the village you see, is taking me into the woods on a hunting expedition which usually last a few days. I've never been on one, and he wants me to… well… learn to hunt I guess." Having sensed Toothless' confusion which was quickly replaced by suspicion, he quickly amended.

Toothless seemed to contemplate his words before firmly nodding, which Hiccup took as acceptance, and that was that.

Having been geared for another battle similar to the one he needed to get Toothless to relinquish his hold on the artificial tail yesterday (_or the day before yesterday now_ – he supposed), it was kind of anticlimactic.

A cold breeze passed through the cove, causing him to shiver and make his way back to the campfire, sparse crunches of rock behind him telling him that Toothless wasn't far behind. Sitting down across the fire, Hiccup waited for his friend to take his customary position on the other side, and was pleasantly surprised when Toothless curled up right behind him. A soft croon invited him to lean back, and he did, taking comfort from the pleasantly warm scales.

Neither of them noticed the time pass them by, content as they were to just lie there. Not even when the last flickering flames of the fire died down did either of them move, as even Hiccup didn't notice the warmth of the fire disappear – the gently rising and falling scaled flesh that he was leaning into providing all the warmth needed.

Only the encroaching darkness of the night managed to shake Hiccup out of his near meditative state, but even it wasn't enough to get him to move. It wasn't as if there was anyone in the village that was all that interested in where he was – not counting Gobber of course. For a moment he felt worried about how his mentor would take him being missing for the second day now, but that didn't last long. _Besides, what does it matter if I sleep here in the cove with Toothless again? I can always come back early in the morning when I am…_

He was asleep before he even finished that thought.

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* * *

**A/N**

I wanted to put a bit more into this chapter, but decided to leave it as is. Overall I think it turned out quite well, though perhaps there was a bit too much angst in it. I justified it as it being the moment when Hiccup comes closest to breaking, and hope you understand.

Strangely enough I wanted the entire scene to take only one day and then continue to the hunting expedition, but the last words just demanded they be the end of the chapter, what with everything coming together like that.

For those who did not clue in, the two of them still haven't realized they can hear each other talking when they are in a highly emotional state. There will be a time they can talk normally, but so far they believe that the reason Hiccup can understand Toothless so well at times like this is because Hiccup can translate emotions so easily (as in Toothless feels curious, and Hiccup takes that to mean that Toothless want him to clarify something). I tried to put in the sections from Hiccup's pov where the responses he gets are in fact feelings, so hopefully you caught that and I didn't do too bad of a job with it.

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Saienai


	26. 1st-24: A Prayer for Prey

**~Ouroboros~**

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**1****st**** – 24. A Prayer for Prey**

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Hiccup left the cove not even an hour after the sun first rose out of the eastern waters. Toothless was slightly uneasy this time around, and Hiccup supposed that it was because the Nightfury knew that Hiccup was going out hunting in the forest – not exactly a safe undertaking to say the least. Still, Toothless didn't put up even a token of resistance, even pushing Hiccup towards the vines leading out of the cove when he stalled at the exit. In a way it made sense he supposed – who better to understand the importance of learning to hunt than a dragon?

It was ironic actually that of the two of them, it was Hiccup that felt more anxiety at not being able to come to the cove every day. Really – he would have been completely against it if he didn't see for himself that the artificial tailfin version two allowed Toothless to easily get in and out of the cove.

His mood brightened considerably when he thought about that – if nothing else, it meant that he would no longer have to steal staggering quantities of fish from the village's store houses. A good thing too, considering that he didn't even remember just what happened to the basket of fish he brought along with him – all he knew was that it was on his back when he ran off from the village, and was gone when he arrived at the cove.

Bad luck that was – the loss of a few fish was easy to pass over as anyone who needed some could take some from the stores, but the fish baskets were quite difficult to make and the disappearance of even a single one would be noticed.

Having walked along the path between the village and the cove enough times that it was almost automatic by now, Hiccup was slightly surprised when the ground beneath him was replaced by creaking wood, signaling that he was already crossing the bridge connecting Berk to the isle upon which his village was situated. Shaking his head to clear it of unnecessary thoughts, he quickened his pace and headed towards Gobber's forge – he was still slightly uneasy about the upcoming expedition, and in a standard Viking fashion wanted to just get it over with already. Besides, he wasn't sure how he would respond if anyone came around congratulating him for killing a dragon again.

Fortune was on his side today, for he made it all the way to the forge without coming across any Vikings – mostly because early mornings had the bulk of them working at the docks. Even so, he didn't even manage to make two steps past the doorway before Gobber barreled down upon him.

"Hiccup! Thor all mighty where have you been! I haven't seen hide nor hair of ye ever since you disappeared into the forest two days ago!"

Having had enough time to think of a reply to such an obvious question, Hiccup opened his mouth to reply and felt all of his air leave his lungs when Gobber grabbed at him with his one remaining hand and pulled him into an embrace.

"Don't you care about the gray hairs in my hair!? I swear the number of them doubled ever since you pulled this stunt! Spending two days in the woods – why I was getting ready to set up a search party for you when you waltzed in!" Gobber cried out in relief and squeezed harder, causing Hiccup's eyes to bulge out. He had never seen his mentor in such a state and as such was completely unprepared for such a greeting.

Getting blue in the face Hiccup managed to croak out a single "Gobber! I can't breathe!", and thanked all the gods he could list (quite an extensive collection, considering his memory) when Gobber's grasp lessened a tad.

"By the gods Gobber, you almost hugged me to death there!" Hiccup cried out in exasperation once he had his breath back. "Be careful – I am a walking fishbone remember?"

"What about me lad eh? I aint as young as I used to be you know – and ye must have taken off another ten years with that stunt you pulled!" Gobber replied, completely releasing his apprentice and absentmindedly swiping off at the non-existent dirt on his shirt.

Hiccup had the decency to look ashamed at that. It wasn't exactly his fault, having been a nervous wreck (and worse) when he fled the village – by Thor, he couldn't even remember how he got to the cove! Still, he could have come back yesterday and spared his mentor at least a bit.

"At least ye'r better than before – come to terms with your first- er… " Gobber stuttered at the end and a slightly awkward pause stretched – both knew exactly what he wanted to say, but neither wanted to come right out and say it. "…Everything that happened before you left?" He finished lamely.

"Er- you could say that. Anyway – about that hunting expedition you were talking about before I… left."

Hiccup highly doubted Gobber didn't notice the obvious change of topic, but it wasn't as if either of them wanted to dwell on it.

"Right, about that. Since ye came back early in the morning, we can set off just as soon as ye get something to eat. I had all the equipment prepared when you er- ran out on me, so a quick check is all that's needed." Gobber replied, stroking at his long beard in concentration.

Eager to just get things over with, Hiccup ran off to see if there was anything to fill his empty (for two days – as it grumblingly reminded him) stomach while Gobber hobbled off to make sure he had everything they would need.

Finishing first, Hiccup walked over to the forge proper to find Gobber in the final stages of packing away all the equipment. Feeling a bit ill at the bulky backpack that was obviously meant for him (the second one was almost three times the size, and he doubted he could even lift it, not to mention actually carry it), he nonetheless made his way to pick a bow and a set of hunting knifes for himself from the vast array of them along the wall. He had never actually been on a hunting expedition, but working with Gobber in the forge to supply countless of them had instilled upon him at least a rudimentary knowledge of what weapons he needed.

Besides, he wasn't too shabby with the bow – that and throwing knifes were the only weapons light enough for him to use whenever he wanted to let off some of his pent up anger in the fenced off area behind the forge.

Gobber must have seen his selection, as his mentor grunted in satisfaction before picking up a set for himself – the bow visibly thicker and longer than the one Hiccup selected.

"Well lad, good to see I don't have to hold yer hand for this part." Lugging his backpack onto his back, Gobber waved the sharpened half spear, half sword attached to the stump of his left arm. "Get your backpack on and we can leave the village. If we do not tarry we can make it to Norns' falls and set up camp on the rock formations there. Not that I expect any visitors – it being summer and all – but still, the rock formations there will allow us to see if anyone approaches."

Hiccup nodded and hefted up his backpack, staggering at its weight which was easily twice the weight of the fish baskets he brought with him to visit Toothless. Having re-drawn the map for main island of Berk from the one hanging in the Meade hall, he knew exactly where Gobber wanted to stop for the night.

The six sided rock formations that appeared in several places along the coast have long been looked at as proof of the importance of threes, as 'even the ground itself joins together along three lines'. Of these places, Norns' falls was perhaps the largest, and definitely the most mesmerizing. Lying roughly two thirds of a day's walk from the village, it spanned almost half a mile and contained within it a shallow river that carried spring water from three distinct points along the rocky outcroppings further inland, and into the ocean surrounding Berk.

Apt to its name, the most beautiful part of that particular place was where the three streams met (being themselves named Wyrd, Veroandi and Skuld), falling down in distinct waterfalls to pool together at the bottom into one river. Completing the set, the pool where the three waterfalls met was named the Well of Wyrd, and it was from this pool that the village elder brought the water used during the naming ceremony that every newborn Viking went through.

Hiccup was… leery of the place – if not because his supposed fate of never becoming a Viking came in part because of its waters, then because the summer after his mother entered Valhala, he came there to ask the three goddesses why they decided for his mother's life to end so abruptly. They didn't answer of course, much the same way they didn't when he came by a few winters later to ask what they had in store for him if they didn't want him to be a Viking.

All of that of course had nothing to do with why Gobber wanted to stop there for the night. The three waterfalls that joined the so called streams of destiny together were positioned in such a way that there was only one path that led to the Well of Wyrd where they joined – making it ideal for setting up camp. Generations of Viking hunters had used the place as the first (and typically, last) step on their expeditions further into the Berk forests, so much so that a burnt out campfire with several rocks positioned around it was now a permanent part of the scenery there.

Hiccup always found it ironic that the expeditions always started and ended at the well of fate – almost as if the hunters were praying for safety before their journeys… and thanking the goddesses for the return of those that came back.

Still, on the positive side Norn's falls was located almost opposite to the cove, so the chances of them stumbling across Toothless when the Nightfury went out hunting were almost negligible.

"Well lad, don't keep me waiting!" Gobber's voice boomed across the forge, startling Hiccup out of his musings and sending him scrambling out the door.

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* * *

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The journey to the Norns' falls wasn't in any way spectacular or exciting, and Hiccup could only be thankful for that. Halfway along their path he finally got used to the weight he was lugging along and was able to focus a bit more on keeping himself from stumbling – a lucky break considering that the footing became much more perilous for the last third of their way. Dropping off his backpack a few paces away from the charred circle that would serve as the location for their campfire (as it had for countless others before them), Hiccup held back a groan and made to follow Gobber to find some dry wood for the fire.

Gobber must have noticed how tired his apprentice was, as he motioned for Hiccup to stay, saying that one of them need to keep watch over their equipment. Hiccup was only too happy to comply – even with the runs Gobber forced upon all the trainees in dragon training, walking across Berk's perilous landscape for the greater part of the day with what felt like over a hundred pound weight on his shoulders wasn't exactly easy.

Sitting there and trying to rub some feeling into his over-exerted legs, Hiccup once more thanked whatever gods led him to forming a bond with Toothless – if for no other reason than the nearly three weeks of hauling baskets of fish between the village and the cove. If not for that, he was sure he would have collapsed before they made it to Well.

_Either Gobber had forgotten that I cannot carry as much as the other trainees… or he is paying me back for worrying him. _Somehow, Hiccup doubted it was the first one.

The sun was setting by the time Gobber returned, its last rays of light dying out by the time they set up and lit the fire. Sitting there with only the flickering light of the flames lighting up their camp and the hexagonal rocks around them, Hiccup wondered just what it said about him that he was missing Toothless' presence.

When he got back from this trip (and had enough time in between training to get away for a day or so), he was going to come here with Toothless and enjoy the sounds of the three waterfalls together.

Gobber didn't say anything, and the rest of their time passed on in silence as the two of them cooked a few salmon he brought from the village. From what Hiccup could see, there was enough for breakfast tomorrow, after which they would need to rely on catching their own food.

They went to sleep soon after, leaving the campfire to burn itself out. In a larger group they would have set up someone to keep watch, but Gobber had long since noticed that he was awakened whenever danger approached even before whoever was looking out for them noticed it.

Besides, the lad was tired enough as it was.

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* * *

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The next morning found the two hunters safe and sound, most wildlife having long since learned to stay away whenever the humans came by – life was just a tad bit too much to pay for a chance at an easy meal.

"This is where the real hunt begins" uttered Gobber, and Hiccup felt a shiver run up his spine. In part he was worried about how things would go, and yet another part of him was excited to finally be here – his father had always held him back from joining in, even though children half his age were sometimes to be seen being dragged along. Hunting and fishing were in some ways even more vital than fighting dragons, and all Vikings had to know how to survive in the wilds alone.

Of course this being the inner forests of Berk, only the foolhardy went in alone (and few of those returned). The outer forest – the part within roughly a day's walk from their village – was relatively tame, so few remarked whenever Hiccup blundered through them. The elder forest further in though, was much more perilous to traverse.

It was five hours after the sun rose that Gobber and Hiccup finished packing up their camp, having slept through four of them – the sun having been gone for only four hours, what with it being the summer and all.

Putting out the fire upon which they had fried up their breakfast, they hefted their equipment and strode away. Climbing up one of the steep sides outlining the river they made it to the basaltic outcropping upon which the three streams converged. Seemingly at random Gobber picked one to follow, and Hiccup continued onwards, keeping just a few steps behind his mentor as they walked upwards along the hexagonal rocks.

At noon they reached as far as they could by following Wyrd's weaving path, the water stream originating from somewhere underneath the rock structure they were looking up at – or at least Hiccup was, Gobber having almost negligibly disregarded the stunning size of the cliff to their left in order to continue moving forward. Hiccup broke his gaze away just in time to spot his mentor disappearing into the dense bushes, and hurried up himself so as not to be left behind.

"Don't wander off too far – we're in the elder forest now." He heard his mentor mutter up front and paused for a moment to glance around in disappointment. Somehow he had expected the forest to be much more intimidating than this – why he could hardly tell the difference between this and the forest close to Berk that he knew like the back of his hand.

Gobber chuckled, having heard the footsteps behind him cease. "It's not what you can see that makes this forest dangerous – it's what ye cant ye have to worry about. Oh, and don't go too far left – there's several drop holes into the caves below that ye can easily fall into… difficult to spot even now, without a foot of snow covering them."

Hiccup itched a bit to the right, and sped up so as to stay closer to Gobber. Perhaps the old veteran was right – it could have been a trick of the light, but he could have sworn that something big (and quite possibly deadly) had darted through the bushes when he tried to spot any of the drop holes Gobber was talking about.

"Come on, we can stop for a breather once we reach a clearing nearby."

Gobber must have known exactly where they were going, because not even an hour after entering into the elder forest they stumbled out into a clearing, the center of which was black with the remains of a long extinguished fire. "Tie your equipment to one of the trees and come over – I will show you what you need to bring with ya when we go hunting. We'll leave most of our stuff here and come back before sundown. Better learn fast – if we are lucky we will catch ourselves something we can eat. If not… well – going hungry for a day or two will only provide incentive to be better eh?"

Hiccup did as instructed, and with his quiver and bow hanging securely from his back walked over to Gobber. Perhaps it was his mentor's warnings, but he could not stop himself from glancing about in unease – there wasn't a shortage of leaves rustling in the soft wind and even a few chirping birds hidden somewhere in the canopy above them; the apparent tranquility a sharp contrast to the number of Vikings who have disappeared here over the years.

Noticing his apprentice approaching, Gobber looked him over and gave a short grunt of approval upon noticing the bow slung across his shoulder. "We've only got half a day left lad, and knowing how you treat the forest just east of Berk as your personal playground, I think we can skip right over the basics and go straight to hunting."

And so they did – Hiccup was surprised to find that the forest around them was teeming with wildlife, and under the encouragement and guidance of his mentor he managed to catch a pair of hares which, as Gobber explained, were perfect prey to start from. Strangely enough he didn't feel all that much aversion to killing them – something he put down as a result of the combined efforts of Gobber and Toothless.

They were right in a way – to live each day meant that he had to cut short the life of another. Still – that didn't mean he had to like it.

Taking two steps forward, Hiccup paused and slowly looked around for any signs – a twitch of an ear within the bushes or perhaps a flash of grey in the otherwise green and brown coloring of the woods. The day was slowly grinding to an end, and it was becoming increasingly difficult to spot any.

His breath caught as a rustle alerted him to something close by, and making sure not to make any sudden movements he glanced over and slowly raised his bow. As the bowstring hummed once more and the arrow flew true to bring down the third hare of the day, Hiccup silently asked forgiveness for taking another life. It was something he decided upon after he watched his arrow pierce through the heart of the first one – no matter what happened, no matter where his life took him; he was never going to take another life without reason.

Releasing the air he had been holding within his lungs, Hiccup hooked his bow back across his shoulder and yelled out for Gobber to come around. It was time to return back to camp.

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Gobber had initially wanted to skin and gut the hares himself – if only to keep Hiccup from having to do it, but Hiccup insisted on doing his part. He killed them after all – it wasn't as if shying away from preparing them would change that. Besides, he had an obligation of sorts to make sure their lives didn't go to waste.

An obligation he wasn't going to push off to someone else.

Under Gobber's instructions the process did not take too long, though Hiccup managed to nick his left hand when his hands shook gutting the first one. Neither of them mentioned it (though Hiccup was positive Gobber noticed him wincing at it), and it stopped bleeding by the time the hares were cooking over the campfire, their pelts hanging from a branch nearby.

"You did well lad." Gobber congratulated in between bites, "bagging three hares in yer first day isn't too shabby. Knew you would of course – ye'v always been good with bows, judging from the perforated targets behind by forge."

"Thanks Gobber." Hiccup mumbled off in reply, his mind not completely on the conversation (if it could even be counted as such). Staring at the leg bone that he had already stripped all the meat from, he couldn't help but wonder if this was really all that life was about – kill or be killed. _Today I cut short the life of three hares, and with the dangerous life we live it isn't all that far-fetched to think that someday someone would cut short my own life. _His mind flashed back to the numerous times he had already stared death in the face. _Is that all life is? Just a struggle to survive?_

A sharp crack from the fire startled him out of his musings, and looking into the flickering flames Hiccup smiled wryly. _Or perhaps we struggle on so as not to sadden others with our deaths – living for the sake of others. _He thought so before didn't he? Before Toothless so abruptly fell into his life, Hiccup wasn't even sure he was living so much as existing. What with all the perilous situations he put himself into – almost daily escapades into the forest, rushing out to find dragons during the raids… perhaps in a way he was just seeking a way to end it all, to escape from this world where no one cared if he lived or died.

Even now, besides Toothless and perhaps Gobber no one really cared what happened to him – if anyone else disappeared into the forest for two days straight, Hiccup did not doubt in the least that there would be search parties out.

That said, as long as Toothless was there, he didn't really care. It was enough…

"Hey Gobber, you think anyone would care if I was killed during dragon training?" The words slipped through his mouth before he could stop them, and he could hear Gobber choking in surprise.

"Wha- What in nine worlds are you talking about!? Ye better not be thinking about givin up 'n getting yerself killed!" Gobber stumbled over his own words, never having expected Hiccup (of all people!) to be asking something like that. "Ive always considered ye stronger than that!"

"No, no! It's not like that! I- " Hiccup waved his hands in denial, but couldn't get anything else out as Gobber overrode him.

"Better not be! As for yer original question – of course there are, and don't you dare think otherwise! If you were gone then who would take over the forge after me? Or do you think I wasn't serious when I said you were like a son to me?"

Hiccup couldn't get a word in edgewise if he wanted to, but it was a moot point in any case – the last point drove away anything he wanted to say. In the wake of everything that had happened, he had completely forgotten Gobber calling him a subordinate son (of sorts).

"What about the other younglings? Sure, your relationship with them is distant at best, but I have no doubt all of them would be sad if you died. By Thor, yer father would be nothing but a wreck if you ever left him – he may not show it much, but I know he cares about you and if anything happened to you I doubt he could go on!

"So don't ever think about dying again, ye hear me? Yer a Viking Hiccup, no matter what the others think, and Vikings don't stop fighting until their last breath is wretched out of them." Gobber's tirade died down, the last few words being said with so much conviction that Hiccup could almost believe them.

"Thanks Gobber – you don't have to worry though, I haven't broken under the combined ire of the village when one after another my inventions failed, and I won't break now," he said.

"Good – you wouldn't be my apprentice otherwise." Gobber grumbled out before returning his attention to finishing off his second hare. Hiccup just stared into the fire for a moment before following suit.

The last remnants of the sun's light disappeared, and the two of them were in the midst of unrolling some furs to sleep in when distant howls pierced the air. "Wolves," Gobber said, not even breaking stride to look around. "Don't worry too much about them – it being summer there are countless less dangerous pray for them to stalk than come after us. It's only during winter that you have to watch out for them."

Hiccup nodded uneasily. Wolves rarely came close to the village, a pair of lynxes being the most dangerous thing he encountered until now. _Not counting Toothless of course; _he amended.

Even with Gobber's reassurance he couldn't quite fall asleep – under the pale glow of the moon the forest seemed much more foreboding; much more deserving of its name. He could swear he saw something big circle around their camp, just outside the remaining light of the campfire.

_Then again, it could have simply been my imagination, _he reflected. There hasn't even been a single sound of ruffling leaves nearby, and something _that_ big would have made some noise at least… right?

Rolling over to the side, he lay still and tried not to twitch whenever another distant wolf howl pierced the air.

Sleep was indeed long coming.

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* * *

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The next morning (at least what constituted as morning, with the summer's four hour nights morning started roughly four hours after first light) greeted Hiccup with Gobber roughly shaking him awake. From the crackling sounds of the campfire and the appetizing smell around him, Hiccup knew that his mentor had been up for at least an hour already.

Blinking away the last remains of sleep from his eyes, Hiccup walked over to sit near their merrily sizzling breakfast, wondering just when Gobber had time to catch anything to eat.

"Yesterday's catch lad," Gobber answered his apprentice's unspoken question. "You didn't think I just stood by and waited for you to catch something eh? Now eat up, today we go after the big guys – Odin willing we will bring down a deer or two and can set off back to the village."

Hiccup nodded and pulled out one of the short spears surrounding the campfire, biting into the meat skewered on it. Gobber followed suit, finishing and discarding his before Hiccup was even halfway done.

"This time we'll be doing things a bit differently." Gobber said, and Hiccup turned around to listen while he continued eating. "I'll be hunting whilst you just follow me, see what I do, and remember. Big prey is harder to find around here, but if we get lucky and I get one before noon I'll let you have a go at it."

And that's what they did – Gobber proceeding in front while Hiccup followed and listened to the whispered explanations. There was quite a lot more to it than he had expected; what with finding tracks, marking signs on trees, small streams that deer liked to frequent, and keeping quiet and constantly on alert. An hour or so after noon Gobber stumbled upon some fresh deer tracks and followed them, Hiccup not too far behind.

They came to a pause along the border of a clearing, Hiccup's breath hitching when he spied the deer that must have led Gobber here grazing within it. In a single fluid motion Gobber strung his bow and let the arrow loose, the deer having just enough time to bring its head up upon hearing the flying arrow before it pierced its side. Even as it tried to get away, its legs buckled under it when the second arrow punctured its neck just above the shoulders.

"And that's how it's done." Gobber's satisfied voice rang through the clearing as he ran through the bushes towards his prey. "Come along lad – this is why I brought you here after all."

The knot in his chest tightened as Hiccup looked at the prone deer, its chest still rising and falling even though it was obviously incapable of moving – not paralyzed as it was with the arrow through its spine.

"Don't just stand there, get out one of yer knives and come over!" Gobber shouted, and snapping his attention towards his mentor Hiccup noticed that Gobber had moved behind the deer and was lifting the deer's head up by one of its antlers. "Now all you need to do is slice its neck and we can drag it off back to camp."

The mess in his chest constricted even further, and Hiccup swallowed the bile rising up his throat. Gobber told him before they set out that this would be his job, but there is a difference in knowing and having the situation staring right at you through the fear filled eyes of a paralyzed (and soon to be dead) deer.

Reaching for his dagger he twitched away from it at the last second and took out one of his throwing knives instead. Gobber lifted an eyebrow, but didn't comment, and Hiccup was thankful for that. He didn't think his mentor would understand that he didn't want the blade that had tasted Toothless' blood to be used for this.

Licking his all too dry lips, he positioned the blade in his hand over the deer's neck and sliced inwards.

_I'm sorry._

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* * *

**A/N**

This turned out to be a bit more serious than I originally envisioned it… When I wrote down the summary for it I wanted to just have a light chapter where Toothless followed Gobber and Hiccup around, always keeping them from noticing him. When the time came for Hiccup (not Gobber) to hunt down a deer, I wanted Toothless to bring a downed deer to Hiccup, with an entire section where Hiccup is afraid that a wolf is stalking him and nearly has a panic attack when Toothless jumps out of the bushes at him. It was going to continue with Hiccup trying to hide the obviously draconic bite/claw marks on the deer from the approaching Gobber, cutting into the wounds with his knife.

… Not exactly completely light, but all of you can probably see how it would have had its funny moments.

How all of that turned into this thesis on the obligation between hunter and prey, I do not know. Still, kudos to anyone who spots the anime/light novels from which the entire 'obligation to the rabbit (ahem- hare)' comes from.

If anyone wants to know where I drew the descriptions for Norn's falls from, here it is: partially I referenced the section in the movie with all the hexagonal rocks (which I didn't really think were realistic until I googled them). The actual scene is from (.com), 2012,07,07 (icelands-ring-road-day-three), third and final waterfall. It is actually quite stunning, and I suggest searching for it. The other scene can be found by googling "kottke hexagonal rocks", and is quite stunning as well.

Finally, this being the first completely original content of my story, I would like to remark that the next few chapters will (more or less) get back on track with the original movie. There will of course be minor and major differences, but nothing as big as this (or the last few) chapter(s).

Read and review people! It's the lifeblood that keeps me going! (or at least the coffee that awakes me enough to get a couple thousand more words into my computer)

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Saienai


	27. 1st-25: Growing Bonds - Flight

**~Ouroboros~**

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**1****st**** – 25. Growing Bonds ~ Flight**

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The journey back to camp and the travel back to the village the following day passed by in a blur. Though Hiccup insisted on helping out with gutting the deer, the entire process was hazy in his mind at best, his hands having worked almost on automatic. As with all the younglings he had helped prepare countless sheep in much the same way, though it felt different to be doing it to a creature he himself killed.

It was several hours before sunset that the two of them crossed the bridge into their village, Gobber carrying the young deer across his shoulders along with the rest of the equipment in his backpack. Hiccup's own smaller backpack was the only thing hanging off his, its weight barely registering in his mind after lugging it across both forested and rocky terrain for days on end.

No one greeted them, and both were glad for that. Even Gobber was slightly tired, not having gone on a hunting expedition (though with only him and Hiccup there, it could hardly be called such) for the past few years; both wanted nothing more than to get some rest on a good bed with a roof over their heads. Doubly so because it rained almost the entire day, and by the time they entered the village they were soaked to the bone.

Hiccup just stumbled into the forge and aimed straight towards his room, pausing only to take off his clothing that seemed to have seeped in several pounds of water. He was so tired that he didn't even think of washing off the grime that had accumulated over the four day journey and instead focused solely on getting some sleep.

_Well what do you know – Tomorrow morning will be exactly four days since I've last seen Toothless… Hopefully the tailfin served him well enough… _Hiccup thought, barely finishing before sleep claimed him.

Gobber wanted nothing more than to follow the footsteps of his apprentice, the hundred pound weight of the deer added on top of the rest of the equipment having taken its toll, not to mention that they set off from the elder forest at first light and only stopped for an hour to rest at Norns' falls before proceeding on. Still, he didn't let himself do that until the deer's carcass was safely hung away outside to be taken apart the next day, the nights of Berk being more than cold enough for that.

In all seriousness, he was proud of his apprentice. The two days that Hiccup had spent in the woods after that fiasco of a dragon training session seemed to have been exactly what Hiccup needed, as he hardly hesitated when faced with having to take another life. Gobber always knew that his apprentice had an iron will and persistence to spare (the fact that Hiccup never stopped trying to bring down a dragon despite almost village-wide ire and disbelief more than proved that), but even so he expected it to take two or three kills before Hiccup could do what needed to be done with such calm.

_Perhaps the Zippleback's death helped him out in the end – after he got over it of course. _He mused as he hobbled his way off to bed.

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* * *

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The next day found Hiccup in the cove again, having rushed off not even an hour after he woke up. It was still noon when he got there though – he had been so tired when they got back that he slept for almost twelve hours straight.

Gobber had decided to postpone dragon training until the next day, saying that there wasn't any time during the hunting expedition to plan out training and thus he needed a day to decide what to put his trainees through next. Hiccup had a suspicion that his mentor was slightly bending the truth and was in a roundabout way giving him a day to rest, but he didn't want to call Gobber out on that and instead ran off before his mentor could change his mind – an entire day he could spend alone with Toothless wasn't something to be wasted after all.

"Toothless! I've brought breakfast!" he yelled, swiveling his head around to try and spot the Nightfury. Although he knew that with the artificial tailfin Toothless could now hunt by himself, he was still loath to throw away something that had almost become a ritual between them. Oh, he didn't lug an entire basket of fish this time around, only bringing four large salmon that were currently hanging over his shoulder by their tails – still, it was the thought that counted.

"Toothless! You around buddy!?" he called out again, and after a minute of listening to nothing but bird calls and rustling leaves sat down with his back against one of the boulders littering the cove. Opening up his rapidly filling journal, Hiccup resigned himself to waiting for Toothless to return from hunting, not even a sliver of doubt existing in his mind that Toothless would.

Toothless wouldn't leave him alone after all – he didn't know why he was so sure of that, but he was.

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* * *

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It was the night of the same day I watched Hiccup leave with one of the adult humans of his tribe, the two of them setting off into the woods eastwards of my cove. The tailfin that Hiccup brought around last time worked much better than the previous one, and I was easily able to fly up and hide myself in the forest's canopy near to the human tribe.

At that time, when I spotted Hiccup pass by several wingspans away from the tree I was perched in, I had an almost irresistible urge to follow him (silently of course) and help him out by spooking prey I spotted towards him. Fortunately I was able to resist, and watched as Hiccup disappeared in between the trees.

It was his first hunt after all – I would only be hurting Hiccup if I interfered; human or dragon, all hatchlings have to learn how to hunt for food.

The logic in that had done nothing to decrease the longing wedged in my chest, and I had flown off back to the cove to sleep. It had been only a few hours since I had woken up, but sleep seemed to be the best way to wait while time passed by.

Besides, now that I was capable of flight once more, it was time for me to see just how much my hunting skills have atrophied after almost an entire moon cycle of relying on Hiccup to feed me – and the best time for that was at night (no matter how short they are during the summer).

Only the peaks of the trees surrounding the cove were bathed in the sun goddess' light when my eyes opened once more, and uncurling from my bed of ashes I performed several stretches in preparation of what was to come.

I would have to stalk land prey today. Fishing was still impossible for me, mostly because I would need to constantly reinforce my weakened wings in order to attempt even the simplest diving maneuver (to say nothing of having to stay in the air for hours on end spotting schools of fish from above). Land hunting was comparatively easier – the sorry state of my wing muscles was only a minor inconvenience due to them being used only in sporadic bursts to increase manoeuverability.

As the last bit of sunlight disappeared, immersing the world in the pale glow of the moon goddess, I spread my wings and took off. With full-moon only a couple sun cycles away there was enough light for even humans to see (at least I hoped so – they weren't _that_ blind, were they?). A for me… the _OiraRae_ have been blessed by the moon goddess, and being one meant that I could see just as well (if not better) in the darkness than during the day. What I lost through the disappearance of colors from my vision was more than made up by the detail in everything I could see.

I stopped my upwards accent only when I was high above the peaks of even the tallest trees, and glancing around I surveyed the island once more. I do not know exactly how many Cycles ago I fell under the influence of the cursed darkness, and I could only hope that the places deer and other land prey frequent hasn't changed since then. I didn't have any time after I regained my freedom to check after all – what with the… missing tailfin and all.

I angled off towards the closest one, closing my wings tightly against my sides and shutting my eyes to experience an almost floating sensation as I plummeted down to the ground. I switched back into a glide not even halfway down – when I had done this before I was able to break off so close to the forest's canopy that if I reached with my paw I could brush against the tips of the tallest trees, but that was then.

With the tailfin that Hiccup made for me, I wasn't sure I could pull up properly with as little control as I had over it… in any case, without me strengthening my original tail the maneuver could result in the bones of my tailfins snapping, and I wasn't about to check just how strong (or weak) the new tailfin was compared to my original.

Besides, loath as I was to admit it, there was a sliver of fear in my heart of falling… of making that small mistake that would lead to me losing my sky once more. It pained me even now – flight by its very definition held within it the danger of losing control and crashing down; and as my sire told me, it is impossible to fly if you are afraid of falling.

The branch I landed on sagged slightly under me, and I growled at the relief I felt at the solid feeling under my paws. The first few times I flew with the new tailfin were so euphoric that I was simply incapable of feeling anything else, but now that the marvel of being whole once more was over I found that I preferred to stay on the ground.

_A dragon who fears the sky… _The memory of Hiccup's breaking mind flashed before my eyes, and I couldn't help but think just how similar we were. _No wonder we bonded so fast…_

I closed my eyes and put those thoughts away. Perhaps in time those unseen wounds would heal, but there was truly no point in thinking about it – only time and a sense of belonging can truly close the deep emotional scars that both Hiccup and I carry within us… _and fortunately for us, we have both – now that I am whole once more._

The way down was quite simple and the only sound that could be heard being the slightly louder rustling of leaves as I moved past them. Looking around I surveyed the landscape around me, and finding several landmarks that even the Cycles I had been away had been unable to remove managed to locate exactly where I was. Smelling and tasting the air around me for any sign of prey, I stalked off.

Completely silent, I moved through the forest – mindful of any twigs or unstable rocks that could reveal my position. A familiar sense of excitement grew within my chest as I crept along, the hunter's instincts that my sire instilled upon me coursing through my veins. It didn't take all that long for me to come across the faint scent of deer, and I followed it since.

I spotted five hares before I came to a halt, the horns of a sleeping deer poking over the top of the foliage blocking the rest of it from my view. I hadn't wanted to break my cover and spook the actual prey I was stalking by catching a hare, and that paid off.

I closed my eyes, centering my mind and preparing my muscles for what was to come. Slightly digging in my paws I spread my wings so as to give me that split second boost that could be all that stood between a full stomach and watching the deer run off – I had no doubts that once it could easily escape if I allowed it to take more than a few steps, my body not being ready for a prolonged chase.

A single breath, a slight tensing of my muscles and… _Now!_

The deer jumped to its legs and tried to bolt, but by then I had already halved the distance between us. Heedless of the noise I was making, the time for silence already past, I jumped. Another boost of my wings shot me straight over the bushes that could have held back a wolf or a lynx for that single vital instant, and I felt my claws pierce into the side of my prey.

My head snapped forward, the action coming as naturally as if the Cycles I went without hunting never happened. I closed my jaw upon the deer's neck, cutting off its frightened scream, and a moment later shook my head, tearing away at the flesh and feeling the chest muscles clamped in my claws spasm a few times before stilling forever.

Just to be safe I waited a few seconds before stepping away and looking with pride at my downed prey. Apparently my fears about my skill in hunting declining over the course of my incarceration were completely groundless, as even my sire could hardly have done a better job. Not even half a _moonfull_ seconds passed since my initial lunge, and I felt a deep sense of satisfaction at not causing my prey to suffer longer than absolutely necessary. It may not have been a soul-carrier, but as my mother taught me – life is life, no matter the particulars.

Any hesitation would have hurt both of us after all.

I moved in, taking a bite and savoring the taste of a hunt done well.

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* * *

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The next few days passed by quickly, though most afternoons found me sleeping within the cove, hoping that Hiccup would come around. The rest of the time I was away – the four hour nights I spent hunting until the sun goddess appeared over the horizon, after which I simply wandered around the island, staying far enough from the areas the human tribe frequented so as not to be spotted. I didn't want to stay in the cove all the time – not that it wasn't beautiful, far from it in fact – but having been trapped within it for almost an entire moon cycle reminded me all too much of the darkness I spent an indeterminate number of Cycles in…

I wasn't sure how long it would be before Hiccup returned, him having told me that he would be away for a 'couple of days'. Still, when my sire took me out to show me how to hunt we went for a quarter of a moon cycle before returning, so I assumed Hiccup's trip would last roughly as long.

As such I was pleasantly surprised when on the fourth day after watching Hiccup leave with one of the elder humans of his tribe I noticed a familiar shape lounging in the middle of the cove. It was a bit after noon, and I had just been returning from the southern shore intent on getting some sleep. Of course all of that flew out of my head as soon as I spotted Hiccup, and jumping off the ledge I glided down towards him, releasing a short roar in happiness.

_:: Hiccup! You're back! ::_

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* * *

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_It really says a lot about how much the past month had changed me that a shrill draconic cry sends a sense of relief through me than any kind of fear, _thought Hiccup as he put away his journal and stood up to greet the Nightfury that was hurling towards him. The feelings of happiness emanating from Toothless accentuated his own, and he basked in them, allowing all of his worries to fade away.

"Hey there bud! Glad to see-" He yelled out, but the rest of it was lost along with the air in his lungs when several thousand pounds of ecstatic dragon barrelled straight into him.

Momentarily stunned, all Hiccup could do was lay there on the ground and try to get his bearings straight. Toothless standing over him and nuzzling him was hardly helping matters, though it did prompt him to start struggling when the wet and sand-like texture of Toothless' tongue dragged itself over his face.

Pushing with all his might at his friend's snout, Hiccup didn't even try and hold back the laughter bubbling up his throat. "Come on you overgrown lizard – that's enough! I didn't come here to drown in your slobber!"

Toothless just rumbled in reply, not even pausing in his administrations, causing Hiccup to redouble his efforts to squirm away. When several failed attempts proved that to be useless, he switched tactics and the next time Toothless' head shot forward he made a grab for the lower ear-flaps.

Toothless paused, and Hiccup was able to safely take a couple of breaths. "Glad to see you as well," he said once he got a handle on his laughter, and a few moments later released his grasp on Toothless, who seemed to smirk as he gave Hiccup a parting lick before moving to curl around Hiccup's sitting figure.

"Good for nothing reptile…" Hiccup grumbled out, though his words lacked any anger. Toothless just blew off a ring of smoke into his face, and Hiccup coughed, waving his hands in front of himself. "You aren't doing a good job proving me wrong you know."

Watching Toothless' smug face, Hiccup just rolled his eyes and reached for his journal. Leaning back to rest against the pleasantly warm scales of his friend, he motioned for the all of a sudden curious dragon to lean forward. Over the course of their friendship he found that Toothless really liked his sketches, unlike others like his father that seemed to think that drawing anything besides maps or diagrams detailing draconic weak points was a complete waste of time. Even Gobber didn't understand Hiccup's fascination to drawing landscapes – 'sure they look good, but it isn't like you can do anything with them' he would say before directing his apprentice to practice one aspect of smithing or another.

That wasn't to say there was no art in the village – almost every house was decorated with simplistic dragon heads and intricate weaving patterns, and there was hardly an axe or a shield without some carving or drawing upon it; but as Hiccup had found, his dissimilarity to other Vikings stretched to his sketching preferences.

_It's certainly ironic, _he thought as he watched Toothless take in the highly detailed drawing of Norns' falls that he managed to sketch down during the three hours' rest on the return journey. He never would have imagined that he would find a similar love for art within a dragon of all creatures.

The silence stretched, both dragon and human soon enough lost within the intricate lines of Hiccup's drawings. There wasn't that much free time during his hunting expedition, but he made the most of it (along with several hours that he waited for Toothless to come around), the end result being seven new additions in his journal along with several pages of quick sketches of interesting plants and trees on a white background.

The last drawing was only halfway finished, Toothless having returned when Hiccup was just starting to fill in the details of the trees looming over the cove's edge. With barely a moment of hesitation Hiccup took out his pencil and settling into a more comfortable pose began to scribble in the lines that were all that stood between a good sketch and a beautiful picture.

From the feelings of serenity he could feel from the dragon, Hiccup knew that Toothless was content to watch him for however long it took to finish.

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* * *

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I watched Hiccup add another line to the physical memory he was putting down, and marveled once more at his skill. While I profess that my interaction with other humans was limited to a few hours before my stupidity resulted in me flying straight to the darkness waiting to sink its claws into me, I still doubted there was anyone else that could do something as magical as this.

Hiccup told me once that he never shown most of his memories to the others of tribe, and I couldn't help but wonder why – even to a dragon like myself his work was captivating in its beauty, and that was with the bulk of the physical memories focusing on this island's landscape (and me – I was quite surprised to see how many of his memories had me in them… surprised and quite honestly honored). If I could, I would have taken Hiccup up into the sky with me, if for no other reason than to see how he would depict that memory in that journal of his.

I paused at that.

Back before I lost my other tailfin I had easily been able to carry an entire deer in my claws as I flew, and even though my flight now could hardly be compared to what it was, I should still be able to lift a human – especially a hatchling like Hiccup. I glanced up at Hiccup in speculation, and found it fortunate that his entire focus was on the final details of the physical memory he was putting down – otherwise he might have been spooked by the almost predator like appraisal I was giving him.

_Yes, _I decided – it would certainly be possible for me to carry him while flying. I mused for a bit about how to bring up the topic, before settling on doing things the dragon way. As my sire once showed me, there was truly only one way of introducing the sky to another.

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* * *

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Hiccup put down the last line detailing the calm surface of the pool in the middle of the cove, and with a yawn that made his eyes water stretched backwards, feeling his muscles protest at moving after being stuck for so long in a single position. Giving his sketch a last critical glance, he turned his attention towards Toothless.

"So, what do you think?" Hiccup said, and watched as Toothless gave a nod in reply, crooning softly as he enjoyed the latest of Hiccup's works. "It didn't turn out all too bad I think – what with me changing my position halfway through all thanks to you."

Toothless looked down at Hiccup's journal for a moment longer before standing up, and uncurling from around Hiccup moving to sit directly behind him. Figuring that Toothless wanted to see the scene he had been drawing from his position, Hiccup thought nothing of his friend's actions until a pair of paws gripped his shoulders, pressing inwards firmly yet gently such that it was quite impossible for him to wiggle away.

"Uh, bud? What are you doing?" he said uneasily, only his iron hard belief that Toothless would never do anything to hurt him keeping him from freaking out – from so close he could easily see the serrated edge adjourning the tips of the Nightfury's claws, and knew all too well from Gobber's lectures that a Viking's life was basically forfeit the moment he allowed himself to be caught within a dragon's grasp.

The opening wings that he could see in the periphery of his eyesight did little to calm him down, and with a sinking feeling Hiccup realized that there was only one thing that a dragon needed to spread its wings for. "Toothless, old buddy old pal, you better not be-"

Whatever else he wanted to say was completely lost as the claws holding him pulled him upwards, the black tips of Toothless' wings appearing at his sides. A primal scream ripped its way out of his throat as he uselessly clawed at Toothless' paws, not even sure himself if he was fighting for his freedom or attempting to get at least a single grasp at Toothless' leg in the case that the thrice forsaken reptile decided to let go.

"Oh gods Toothless, let me down! Contrary to what you may think, if humans were meant to fly Odin and the others would have granted us wings!" he blabbed onwards, not even paying any attention to whatever he was saying – his entire mind focused singularly on the rapidly shrinking ground below. "If you want me to see just how happy you are to be able to fly again, you are most definitely doing it the wrong way! Trust me when I say I feel much safer when I am not in a perpetual danger of getting splattered across the landscape!"

Toothless growled, and even with the wind in his ears Hiccup could tell that the Nightfury was slightly peeved that he even thought that Toothless would drop him. "I don't care how sure you are about my safety; get me down now!"

The climb leveled off and Hiccup let loose another startled scream when Toothless almost overbalanced, the mercifully brief moment feeling something akin to leaning backwards and not encountering the wall you knew was there.

"Oh no; no no no no no…" he chanted under his breath before trailing off, the almost hereditary fear of heights displaced by the growing wonder of the scene around him. The deep blue sky above him was clear as far as the eye could see, the sheer boundlessness of it filling him with awe even as the brightness of the sun caused his eyes to water. _It's no wonder that Toothless loved flying so much, _he thought; _not when the world is so beautiful from up here._

The clouds bunched up under them seemed to glitter, looking almost like an ocean spreading in all directions with scarcely a break in it. _What I wouldn't give to be able to draw this – right here, right now. _The death like grip he had on Toothless' paws loosened. Without breaking his gaze away from the scene spread out all around him, Hiccup padded his jacket, searching for his journal. It wasn't there though. With a curse he remembered that he hadn't put it away before Toothless carried him up – he had thought that the Nightfury just wanted to see his latest drawing from behind him, and in his surprise at finding Toothless' claws gripping his shoulders must have dropped it.

His arms dropped down in defeat. Sure he could draw what he saw once he was back on the ground, but he doubted it would turn out even half as good – it just wouldn't have the same _presence_… the soul that he tried to imbue his sketches with.

He was just wondering if Toothless would object to taking him up again when Toothless' claws opened, sending him tumbling down through the air.

His mouth gaping wide in an attempt to let out a scream that seemed to have gotten tangled with his heart somewhere in the middle of his throat, Hiccup couldn't form a single coherent thought as the sky and ground flipped themselves over each other in a nauseating display of colors.

There was a brief flash of light as the sun came into view, and then his entire world was consumed in whiteness. _Am I dead? _He wondered as he watched the white smoke flow around him. There was a shrill scream somewhere close by, but he barely heard it due to the gull of air whistling in his ears. Still, it was familiar…

_Toothless? _He wondered. _What are you doing here?_

His thoughts ended just as abruptly as the white mist, the approaching greenness of the ground below replacing it. Somewhere in the back of his naturally analytical mind something clicked into place and he realized that he had simply fallen through the layer of clouds. He couldn't blink as he watched the ground coming closer, his fear and terror replaced with something akin to numbness.

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* * *

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Hiccup stirred, coming out of unconsciousness in response to whatever it was that was ribbing him in the side. Blinking open his eyes he looked in incomprehension at a jaw full of razor sharp teeth grinning down at him. _Wait, what!?_

With sleep ripped out of him by possibly the largest dose of adrenaline he had experienced in his short life, Hiccup flailed his way from underneath the dragon, screaming his lungs out the entire time. Scrambling along the grass he blindly groped for the dagger he always carried on the inside of his jacket before flipping around, ready to bravely fight to the death against the horrifying dragon that was even now sitting on the ground and… staring with worry at him?

Oh… right.

"Toothless you flaming reptile… don't you dare _ever_ wake me up like that." Hiccup said once he got his spiking heart rate under control, his voice coming out in brief bursts. Forcing himself to take a few deep breaths so as not to fall unconscious again from hyperventilating, Hiccup stared in exasperation at his friend. "I literally felt years of my life get sheared off!"

Toothess crooned in reply and Hiccup shook his head before clutching at it – with everything else he should have really expected the splitting headache on top of everything else. His back muscles were sore, his throat was about as parched as if he hadn't had a drink in days, and lest he forget, his head felt like Gobber just used it as a makeshift anvil while fixing a broadsword or two (possibly cursing the entire time and hefting the hammer just a tad harder than he had to).

There were some sounds of movement, and Hiccup heard Toothless croon in worry a few feet away at most. He raised his head slowly and gave the dragon as sharp a glare as he could, putting his memory of his father's and Gobber's glares to good use. He would bet his left leg that this was all Toothless' fault. He couldn't quite remember what happened, but it revolved around the Nightfury in one way or another, and at the moment it just felt good to blame someone for the pains his body was putting him through.

Toothless had the decency to look away in shame, and feeling vindicated Hiccup thrust his finger out in accusation; "So it _is_ your fault that I feel like death warmed over! Spill – what did you do?"

_:: … don't you remember? ::_

Hiccup just intensified his glare. "Of course not, that's why I am asking you!"

_:: ah, well – not sure how that's possible, but perhaps it is for the best then? I mean if you don't- :: _He could feel shame and embracement emanating from the dragon, and for a moment wondered if it really _was_ such a big deal. _I mean, if Toothless doesn't want to talk about it… _He squished that thought.

"Speak. Now."

The silence stretched between them, making Hiccup's headache even more pronounced now that he had nothing to distract him. Still, he refused to lower his gaze. In front of him Toothless shuffled around, absentmindedly scratching at the ground with the claws of his front left leg. All in all Toothless looked like a child who was being told off by his father – something that Hiccup did not expect to see any dragon emulate… especially not Toothless.

_:: Well… you see… I decided to take you up into the sky so you could make a physical memory of it and when we reached the peak of our flight I kind of sort of let you go. ::_ The entire thought came as one jumbled up mass, and it took a moment for Hiccup to make sense of it. When he did, he could only stare at Toothless in disbelief.

"You- you _dropped_ me!?"

Completely disregarding his raging headache and moaning muscles, Hiccup snapped around to pad himself all over, checking if he was all in one piece. "Why!?"

_:: My instincts took over – my sire did the same thing to me when he first took me up on my first flight, and I guess I did the same thing to you… Was definitely a sinking moment when I remembered that you weren't going to open up your wings and fly like I did… ::_

Hiccup's frantic search to find a broken bone or two ground to a halt as his mind tried to process Toothless' answer. For the life of him he couldn't imagine a good reason why a dragon would drop its child from thousands upon thousands of feet up in the air – it sounded all too much like pushing a human child out into a dragon raid and expecting him to come back safe and sound with a dragon's head or two on a pike…

_On second thought, dropping your child high above the clouds and expecting it to learn to fly before slamming into the ground makes perfect sense, at least according to Viking traditions... perhaps dragons and Vikings aren't as different as I thought._

Still, as enlightening as Toothless' answer was, it wasn't what he was looking for when his befuddled mind blurted out his single word question. "Not _quite_ what I was asking there – I meant to ask why I was still alive if I fell from the sky… as far as I know humans can't fly."

_:: I caught you of course :: _Toothless replied in surprise, as if he couldn't understand why Hiccup did not come to that conclusion himself. _:: It was impossible to completely break out of our dive, but I did all I could and the lake here did the rest ::_

_Lake? _Hiccup wondered before shivering. Now that his adrenaline levels were finally decreasing and he no longer had more pressing matters to attend to, he noticed all too well that he was soaked to the bone – his jacket alone having gained at least ten pounds in weight. _Ri-i-ight… __**that**__ lake. Wonder how many times that makes it that I had been completely soaked in it?_

He shivered again and turned to look at Toothless, this time with an almost pleading look in his face. "Umm… Toothless… think you can light us up a fire? I don't know about you, but I swear I will get pneumonia if I have to sit around in wet clothing for even a moment longer."

Toothless was all too happy to oblige, glad that Hiccup decided to drop the awkward topic.

With the fire merrily burning in what was quickly becoming the permanent fire-pit of their cove, Toothless dozed off curled around it while Hiccup only took a moment to once again throw his clothes over the Nightfury's tail before leaning back against Toothless' side and joining his friend in slumber.

_Even counting that overall unnecessary mess up, the day wasn't all that bad… _Hiccup thought as he drifted off to sleep; _no – it wasn't that bad at all._

For the first time since _skylust_ left him, Toothless dreamed of the skies; of flying high within its boundless grasp, of darting through the clouds and racing through the intricate cave like rock formations lining this island. For the first time in a while, he dreamed of freedom.

Lying with his bare back pressed against Toothless' scales, Hiccup dreamt the same dreams.

.

* * *

**A/N**

Anyone wondering about toothless flying without Hiccup - he can (the tailfin is always in the fully open position), but quite badly. This will change once Hiccup comes up with the saddle idea.

… And that takes care of all of my padding chapters. I haven't had any time to write in the past month, and now that the last chapter that I had written has been posted I have nothing else left. If I get some time I might post next week, but chances are that I will have to take some time off. Once I start posting again it will be every Tuesday, but until then bear with me.

Sorry for that – real life just sucks that way…

The next chapter (once it's out) will be called 'Dragon and Rider', so you can probably guess what it is going to be about. 'Til then people!

.

Saienai


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